Wax & Wane
by Tear-U-Apart
Summary: This is an 'Instinct' inspired story that presents you with a realistic reconciliation of Bering & Wells. (Is that summarized enough?)
1. Phase One: New Moon

Disclaimer: I so do not own these characters that I have borrowed from SyFy, yet even in their 'loaner' state I've tried my best to preserve the way you've come to know them.

A/N: My first WH13 fic 'FanBoys' didn't attract a damn thing. And if I hadn't already spent a fair amount of time with this fic, I wouldn't be wading into the tsunami of angst that is Bering & Wells now (even though I'm not selling this in the 'angst' department.) So let's get this thing started with H.G.'s POV for now; I'll let you know when that changes, because it will and if you don't like that then...pfft!

* * *

**(~Phase One: New Moon~)**

* * *

_London, 2010..._

Meeting at gunpoint; the thrill of it all, which was quite enchanting for me, though I suspect the added excitement to the situation was because it accompanied some of my very first breaths of freedom in more than a hundred years. And then she rounded the corner; Myka, and I was rendered powerless from letting my eyes appraise the commanding woman advancing towards me, was she ever my type, and had she been born in my time not even the queens command would have prevented me from perusing her. Seeing those intense green eyes engage my own, as her feeble partner cowered under my steady hand, and I knew in that moment I had chosen poorly, but I quickly changed my method. Not surprisingly, I found I rather enjoyed daydreaming how I would seduce her for my mad endeavor, because I realize now how absolutely close to lunacy I was: the less than sane manner of my thoughts, the bitterness I clung to as the years passed slowly in my bronze tomb.

My most lucid of reasoning at the time was I felt I was entitled to my revenge, no matter the penalty or cost. And needless to say my awakening was not to as grand a vision as I had hoped, no modern utopia had arisen in my absence, I was rather disappointed when I opened my eyes to the new world, and found it lacking.

_California, 2010..._

Tracking Myka and the young girl Claudia wasn't a challenge per se. I spent quite a few weeks trying to acclimate myself with this new time; learning the technology of this age, and I was pleased to find I'm well suited for computers. The internet-a wealth of knowledge at your fingertips, one simply just needs to know how to look.

My best laid plans are all I have left in this world, and to get back in the good graces of the Warehouse it's going to take winning the favor of Secret Service Agent Myka Bering. Gathering information on her proved to be quite a good read, although it didn't provide me with any substance that my charms would work on her. I didn't truly test the waters back in London during our encounter; Pete was an all too easy target. This time I chose to present myself to her, and once more I was taken aback, then even more so when Myka proceeded to choke me up against a wall. I know I wasn't in any real danger; due to her morals, but a threat remains a threat and Myka is that and more. Especially after reading her file, I must say I was quite impressed by the multitude of languages she is fluent in, as well as the fencing, which I must say I find rather dashing and I imagine she would perform it with power and grace. All in all, I deemed her a worthy opponent.

I admit I was instantly smitten, but I chose to ignore those impulses. During our first conversation when she was being rather cavalier in her actions about what I removed from the Escher vault, her words surprisingly stung and they were not supposed to. I was indignant and genuinely put off, thus I defended my actions and told her the unabridged truth; the truth about my daughter. Speaking about her always hurts, and the fact didn't escape me that I quite quickly divulged this personal information to Myka, someone I didn't really know, aside from what I read on paper. I surprised myself by how vulnerable I was being and mostly because it was not a part of my act, I was speaking from a place of purity and Myka responded in kind. Then as if by kismet, I was forced to use my grappler to save her life and mine of course. At the exact moment I pulled Myka into my arms I thought how fortuitous that this would only serve to reinforce my good intentions and to make her blind to my true ones, and indeed it did serve to further my cause. But then I began to flirt with her after the danger had passed, and to my delight she responded, thus I knew success was within my grasp.

_Moscow, 2010..._

Myka continued to be rather adept and open to flirting with me. Of all the moments in the early stages of our...God, I don't even know what to call it. My favorite moment was when she flirted with me over slipping that tracking transmitter in her pocket, and I adored that she did it right in front of Pete, the both of us oblivious to the world around for a few seconds. And after the success of the Russian mission Myka vouched for me, and I stood outside Artie's office listening to her ranting and worrying over my yet to be determined status by the powers that be. I couldn't help the profound satisfaction I felt went I heard Myka ask so brokenly if I had been bronzed again. At the time it meant I had succeeded in choosing the proper person to guarantee my re-entry into the Warehouse, but now I know it was something more.

But as per my usual, I flirted with her more and any fool could recognize she was quickly becoming very smitten with me as well. I could only smile back at Myka's relieved smile that she sent my way, and the way she was mesmerized by me as I stepped forward to thank her, I knew right then I had her exactly where I wanted her. An ally and strangely I felt something else, but I quickly dismissed it as a dormant longing for human contact reawakening after my debronzing. However, being accosted by Artie did hurt somewhat, but only in the means that I felt he saw right through my actions; as if I were transparent, and he saw me for what I was and what I was going to do. But seeing Myka run after him in an effort to get him to make amends for what she saw as an unfair slighting, a fear crept into me in that moment; one I hadn't felt in a long time.

_Warehouse 13, 2010 (the usage of my time machine)..._

I actually settled into the routine of the Warehouse and for a time I put aside my plan, and then came the mission that called for the use of my time machine. I felt the hand of fate like no other that day, had I not been bronzed I would never have met Myka, nor would I have been able to help her retrieve the glass knife artifact. By this time I had lost all semblance of reigning in my own affections for her, quite boldly I caressed her hand as her mind was off in 1961 and I couldn't help but wonder if she could feel my touch, I had completely forgotten Claudia was even present, so I shifted my attention nervously to Pete. When Artie purged the system and rendered my machine useless, I was outright frightened I might actually lose Myka, so much so I almost couldn't comprehend a proper fix for a few seconds to shout at Claudia's retreating form. And then that sudden and familiar feeling I was growing accustomed to, engulfed me once more, but only with Arthur standing watch over me with a primed Tesla was I able to dismiss it again.

_Egypt, 2010..._

Some much needed centering and distancing finally allowed me to set my true purpose into motion, but still I knew hurting Myka was in turn going to hurt a part of me now. However, all I had to do was take a look at the world that surrounds me now, and the disappointment I felt brought all the old anger surging to the surface again; it was what pushed me back to some unfathomable depth that resides just under my skin. I recall now with great frustration losing myself in one of the traps inside Warehouse Two; a mind trap that dangled my one true happiness in front of me-my long since passed daughter. And when Myka freed me from that pleasant oasis I was angry all over again, it fueled me to do what I set out to accomplish and I did so with great relish. But looking back, a chink in my armor persisted when I blatantly asked for Myka's forgiveness right before I shot her with my Tesla.

_Yellowstone, 2010..._

I wanted to kill everything. But mostly I wanted to kill the festering madness inside me to find the peace I've longed for. So I drove that trident into the ground with all the fury in my body, hoping it would drown out Myka's desperate pleas and smother the turmoil threatening to drown me from the inside out. She was right though, I did want her to stop me at this point, more than I cared to admit even to myself. I was rather like a train; its course once set at full steam takes miles to slow and may even crash through a great many barriers before it comes to a grand destructive halt. I knew I was well and truly conquered when she pressed that retched gun into my hand, and demanded that I put a bullet between her eyes. My hands shook and my heart twisted in my chest at the thought of killing her, so with a scream akin to a losing battle cry I sunk to the ground, and shook from the emotions that finally overwhelmed me. I will always be haunted by those profound green eyes, how they tried and succeeded in revealing the truth of my buried goodness, which Myka was so certain still resided in my soul and she was half right.

Also I would be remiss to admit I also felt a sense of freedom in my surrender, even as I was marched out of the Warehouse in bonds. Still it was like letting go, it was as if I had been hanging from the edge of a great precipice for so long my hands had melded to its stronghold, and the act of breaking free hurt but there was peace in the fall.

* * *

"These are very interesting and arresting thoughts Ms. Wells," Dr. Mason says as he closes the cover on my journal, or what I would have called it in my time-a diary. "But I expected no less from someone of your caliber and experience, and I do appreciate that you took my assignment to heart."

I acknowledge him with a polite nod, while crossing my legs and quietly considering the man before me: Mid to late forties, he has a pleasant oblong face, that is adorned with rather unremarkable features save for the grey making its presence known at his temples and throughout his light brown hair. His pale blue eyes are enhanced by a well groomed close-cropped beard that draws the focus to his unique eyes. And finally his bland wardrobe of pressed charcoal slacks, brogues and sweaters that unfortunately only enhance his slightly roly-poly midsection. And admittedly, I oddly find his muddled British accent rather soothing. I only agreed to this therapy because if I'm to truly function in society this must be done, and I cannot hide any longer as Myka so ineloquently phrased it not too long ago during a very heated discussion.

"Ms. Wells...?"

I mildly startle out of my assessment of this man and smile at him. "Apologies, my mind wanders a fair amount lately." I answer while uncrossing my legs as I lean back further in the leather settee. "But to answer your observation, I feel its redundant to point out I merely did as requested and wrote the truth as it happened to the best of my memory, which there certainly is nothing remiss with it."

Dr. Mason sighs, "Ms. Wells, may I call you Helena?"

I nod my acceptance and he continues, "I knew you would be a challenging patient; one that I gleefully accepted for many reasons along with my respect for who you are, which is someone you are free to embrace now. So once again I do appreciate you completing and taking seriously for that matter, the task I asked of you after only a few sessions, along with the candor you employed within these pages." Dr. Mason says as he rests his hand upon my journal. But even though his words were spoken with the utmost respect, it takes everything in me not to snatch the small leather-bound volume out of his hands at how trivial and unhinged I suddenly feel under his scrutiny.

Dr. Masons shifts in his chair and lays my journal on the small table between us. "But now it's time to open a dialogue about a long standing issue with you, and the predominate sole focus of your writings-Myka Bering."

I feel my eyebrows rise on their own accord. "I'm of the mind that its quite plain and obvious what I once felt for her," I reply tersely. "And I never acted upon because it would have been improper, but mostly due to the shame I feel on reflection of how poorly I have treated her far too many times."

Dr. Mason quickly scrutinizes me with his eyes, "Succinctly put Helena and accurate, but you used the past tense when describing your affections," He says thoughtfully. "And we both know those feelings are as strong as ever, and yet another thing you are hiding from."

I inhale sharply, but I will not lose my temper with this man even though he is deliberately trying to provoke me. "I have a functioning adult relationship with a nice man..."

"A man you live with and to do so you promptly lied to in order to maintain said relationship." Dr. Mason interjects. "Even though you had to, given your station, and yet you expect him to care for you, while ignoring the facts that he doesn't know who you really are, and frankly can never appreciate the person who he ignorantly invited into his home."

I clench my hands into fists and take a deep breath, and in the span of two breaths I relax them against the settee's cushions quickly. "I'm fully aware that I charmed myself into Nate's life; mostly because of his daughter, and I realize how hideous that sounds when a person says it aloud." I reply somewhat morosely, while smoothing my hands against the cushions beneath me.

Dr. Mason considers me for a moment and I rather feel like this is a chess match. "Helena did you truly want to escape the Warehouse, or did you just want to escape Myka?" He asks while twisting his pencil around his fingers on his right hand. I feel myself flush with anger towards this man, but I remain silent because our sessions are fully sanctioned by the Regents for full disclosure; both ways. "I feel compelled to point out based on your file that your previous superiors provided, you had more female lovers than male ones, so I can easily deduce you had no problems with affections toward your own sex." A part of me feels so exposed in this moment, but all things considered nothing he has said has been false thus far, so I choose to continue reining in my brewing anger. "But I fear back then for you it was only a distraction; you've never had a real relationship have you Helena?"

I close my eyes and then as if my unspoken prayer is being answered, I hear the increasingly familiar faint chime on Dr. Mason's desk which always signals the end of our session, so I move off the settee; standing I adjust my leather jacket. "It appears as though we are out of time." I offer rather sarcastically. "And if you'll excuse me, I'm needed back at work this afternoon."

I feel Dr. Mason's eyes on me as I turn to leave his office. "Don't forget your journal." He says and I stop just shy of my hand on the lever for the door, and turn back towards his voice. "Also I would like for you to keep writing in it Helena, anything that you wish to be free of; think of it as a confessional." Dr. Mason adds politely, while offering my book back to me.

I quickly cross the room and snatch it from his hand, the action makes me feel like a petulant child, but as I open the door to leave I feel the weight of his unanswered question hit me. Standing in the doorway I look back at him; now standing by his desk, waiting, knowing, and in spite of myself I answer him.

"I will continue to write as requested and to answer your deductive observation...no." I reply softly, before gently closing the door behind me. I straighten my coat again as I exhale loudly; walking down the carpeted corridor my eyes scan over the doors that lead to many doctors housed within this establishment. In its comforting monotony it reminds me of a science fiction film I watched on the television not too long ago; only instead of a vast white hallway adorned with innumerable doors, it's a warm beige no doubt chosen to soothe a person subconsciously and of course has no more than seven doors. Arriving in the waiting room I notice others, I cannot say if they are like me, although I find that notion highly unlikely. But the one thing we do share is waiting, I imagine we are all waiting to find the answers that cut into the real bare bones truth hidden behind self-imposed walls, which is a concept I know quite intimately. I also know such journeys are never easy and are seldom taken.

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**Soundtrack:**** "And Fools Shine On" by Brother Cane, "Rose Of The Devil's Garden" by Tiger Army, "Wars" by Hurt & "I'm So Lonesome I Could Cry" by Volbeat**

**Parting Words:**** I will get through this thing regardless if anyone reads it, if not for anything other than to say I finished posting it and to have something to show for my limited freetime that I put into this. [F.Y.I: This story is completed and I believe in seeing things through until the end, but I'm still editing as I go; I'm a one-person band here.] **


	2. Phase Two: Waxing Crescent

A/N: And here we go into the fray once more, and this is a long chappie-chapter which hopefully will tide you over for awhile. So on with the show, and a friendly reminder that H.G.'s POV is still in play.

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**(~Phase Two: Waxing Crescent~)**

* * *

The year was 1894 and the smell is what assaulted me first, then came the visual devastation. As Mr. Wolcott and I stepped off the landing platform of our vessel, I felt as if I couldn't possibly be more useless. We could have prevented what happened had we been properly informed of the 'curiosity'. But with such an innocuous artifact in appearance alone still in play, even more destruction could be wrought in another place at any given moment, because I have doubts that the person in possession of the artifact is unaware of its clear lethal nature. The destructor is a simple bell; one a person would find on a farm animal so that it would be easier to locate in a large area is the culprit.

This place was once a sleepy fishing village on the Huangpu and Yangtze Rivers that has begun to teem with life and signs of progress, now the bustling city of Shanghai is nothing more than ruination.

"This is almost a stretch of the imagination H.G." Wolcott states absently, after his own silent musing I'm sure. "I wouldn't believe a mere bell to be capable of this, if I weren't here and seeing this with my own eyes."

I look around and try not to breathe too deeply, because if I were to my lungs will begin to protest in the acrid laced air, which still smells hot and almost flammable. "I would be inclined to agree with your assessment had the facts not been so plain, and the knowledge that this Mrs. O'Leary's cowbell is responsible for the great fire of London in 1666 and also Chicago in 1871."

"So after twenty-three years it made its way across the ocean again to wreak havoc?" Mr. Wolcott replies more to himself than me. I nod my accent and we make our way towards the heart of the city, side by side and at the ready.

As Mr. Wolcott and I walk down the streets, and I pause by the haggard remains of small building. Curiosity pulling me forward, I walk over the threshold; where once I'm sure stood a grand door. My eyes take in the remnants, which isn't much, but then I notice a whole set of tools and equipment that lends to the fact that this was once a barber shop. As I move further with cautious steps, the crunch under my feet of burned wood which splinters as I move, and subtly echo in the shell of the hollowed out domicile. To my amazement, a single white apron draped over the back of a chair managed to survive, but several old style scissors and razors weren't so fortunate. Then I notice a clean area on the floor, approximately the circumference of a person standing, so I kneel down in the area devoid of signs of a fire and run my fingers over the sooty floor, and with a gentle swipe the once highly polished floor emerges under my fingertips. I listen to Agent Wolcott's impatient footfalls as he enters, so I close my eyes against the noise and imagine a livid fire; one crawling over rooftops, leaving a trail of liquid red and blue, because at its heart a fire and its roaring flames burn an incandescent blue. I also see with clarity every narrow side street and alley we passed on our way here, and the corpses of bicycles that lay askew on the streets; the rubber burned off and the frame twisted and knarled from the intensity of the flames.

"H.G. we should be pressing on." Mr. Wolcott says quietly.

I rise from my crouched position and face my partner. "This was the source of the inferno Wolly, we are in the right place."

"You are certain?"

"Quite." I reply while rubbing my two of my now soot covered fingers together, and then I spot movement out of my peripheral vision.

"Perhaps just an onlooker?" My partner asks, his keen eyes following mine. On any other day I might have been inclined to agree, but I know better, the truth being glaringly obvious in the destruction we are surrounded by.

"I think not Wolcott."

"Shall we give chase then?" Wollcot asks knowingly, while pushing his hat tighter down on his head.

I chuckle. "After you."

"Ladies first." Wolly replys and I smirk at him in passing as we begin to move out of the dwelling and take off down separate streets at an accelerated pace.

Knowing this district of Shanghai the way that I do, I take the adjacent street the assailant is fleeing on as Wolly takes up pursuit directly behind him. With my advanced scientific knowledge I feel the adrenaline surge into my bloodstream, and Lord knows I love feeling this alive; it's all I have left. Breathing in through my nose I run faster, my boots making very little noise as I maneuver through the rubble. I chance a quick glance and see the man several meters ahead of Wolcott; his white shirt quickly flashing by in-between the spaces of each dwelling that is barely standing. Up ahead I notice one building still intact, and with dusk upon us; the dimming quality of the sun is fading fast and if I were eluding someone I would head to shelter. The man who in my mind has the artifact does in fact think as I do, and he runs right into the storefront, disappearing in its shroud of darkness.

Trying to corner the assailant I instruct Wolcott to circle the building and cover the back entrance to what remains of an old Yanzhi Store, that managed to hold itself firm against the fire. I take out my Tesla and have it at the ready, as I too cross the blackened threshold. My eyes adjust to the twilight and I look at the walls; which are coated in soot and painted over in ash, how they creak and groan, no doubt still cooling from the inferno, so discerning any extra movements is increasingly difficult. The sound of my Tesla's current sizzling in my grasp only adds to the din, so I put it away. Then not an instant later I catch a glimpse of a figure off to my left; I pursue carefully and quietly, haphazardly taking giant steps over the burnt flooring.

"Don't come closer!" The sound of firm yet broken English carries throughout the room and I stop; the floor groaning and protesting under my feet. "The bell erase you in seconds!"

A thrill courses through my veins making me feel more alive even under the threat of imminent death. So I boldly side-step into the shadows cast along the wall behind the front counter of the Chinese drugstore; merely estimating where the voice originated from. Avoiding the small bottles along the wall of various tonics and herbs that are quite miraculously unscathed, I continue on until the room opens into a large back room. Then I hear muffled steps advancing and out of the darkness my attacker strikes.

But with my Kenpo training I'm always prepared; my teacher's most basic instruction was for one to be a warrior you must be ferocious on the outside, but calm and tranquil on the inside. So with ease I lean away from his heavy handed strike; still being mindful of the compromised flooring beneath my feet, and pivot back to land a hard kick with my right just under his left knee. And with a satisfying grunt he staggers but doesn't fall, instead he counters with a looping punch with his left arm, which I counter by punching down with my right while simultaneously landing a elbow strike to his ribcage. A rush of air leaves his lungs, but I know my punch was softened by his solid abdominals that I made contact with. In a manner of seconds he moves to kick me in my right kidney, but I quickly execute a right universal block over my right knee and block his kick. Then he attempts a left front crossover, but I'm prepared for that as well.

"You had great Sensei." My attacker states, his breathing only moderately labored as he moves to strike again. However I move to avoid his intended blow to my stomach and grab the outside of his left elbow; using his momentum to turn him until his back facing my front, and then I immediately land a right front crossover sweep to the back of his already compromised knee once more. The loud crunch and an accompanying cry of pain echo through the building, the man falls to the floor which gives squeal of its own and I'm reminded of the unsafe surroundings.

And then in the next breath I hear loud and hurried footsteps. "H.G. are you alright!" Wolcott's nearing and elevated voice distracts me, but thankfully the man on the floor hasn't managed to move very far from where he fell. Once more I carefully step to avoid any unsafe planks and start to call out to Wolcott, but before I can get a word out I feel a sharp pain in my ribs and I fall to the floor due to an abrupt lack of oxygen.

"You fight good, but today not your day Ms. Wells." The man says, and I try to move but it feels like I have more than a few fractured ribs. Taking stock of my opponent who caught me off guard and bested me, I look up at him: He's about my height, lithe but muscled, dark pants with scuffed boots, and I try to see his face but the stinging in my eyes and the darkness are making it impossible. I inhale painfully as I'm struck by the notion that I don't find it the least bit surprising this man knows of me, even though nothing else seems to register properly in this moment.

I close my eyes momentarily from the sharp pain as my breath finally returns to me, upon opening them I realize of course the man is gone; despite a fractured kneecap of his own courtesy of me. I attempt to stand as Wolly bursts into the room, a few seconds too late but nonetheless my partner through thick and thin. Suddenly I hear a loud screech and groan reverberate throughout the space, and then it's as if the world slows to a crawl and I can only watch in abstract awe as the burnt floorboards give under Wolcott's weight and he disappears from my sight all too quickly. I cry out in two kinds of pain and drag myself to my feet, and without a care for my own safety I move towards the hole in the floor and look down. Apparently the building had a deep subbasement used for extra storage and drying; I listen for any movement but I hear none, so I call out Wolcott's name into the darkness below but he doesn't answer. He will never answer me when I call out to him, ever again.

The next morning in the aftermath of it all, I surmised it was all for naught, even as I was ushered back to my awaiting vessel. Wolcott's body already stored for the voyage home; my shame walking alongside me like an invisible man, and my bandaged torso smarting all the way. I don't think anyone but the Regents will have a care for my failure and the loss of an Agent. The establishment had already begun to take stock of the casualties here, though I imagine all that could possibly be left was no more than ash.

* * *

"And that good doctor was one of my last missions before I was bronzed." I state with a only a small waver in my voice, as I look up from my tightly clasped hands. "I also failed to acquire the chain of Torquemada, even after it was tasked to me after my lapse in sound judgment in Shanghai." I pause because some part of me still can't believe how freely these confessions are pouring out, but maybe it's time; all dams do burst and spill their contents eventually.

Dr. Mason looks up from his notes in what I now know is a silent urge to continue. "I felt I was in a downward spiral of epic creation, so shortly thereafter I took leave from the Warehouse in search of a dangerous artifact; not sanctioned by the Regents of course, after my partner Wolcott was...lost."

"Do you still see it as a failure in not being able to acquire the bell artifact, and does it weigh heavily on you in your assumed responsibility in Mr. Wolcott's death?" Dr. Mason asks evenly.

I sigh, "Both for awhile, but obviously my part in Wolly's death is just one of the many demons I carry with me daily." I reply with resignation, while crossing my legs thus changing my previously slouched position on the settee.

"Would it strike you as too obvious if I said Mr. Wolcott's death cannot be squarely placed on your shoulders?"

I remain silent because I know the next part in his sentence, and right as it may very well be, it still feels wrong to me.

"Also would it be too obvious to say he knew the risks when accepting the job as an Agent of Warehouse Twelve?"

Choosing to remain silent I nod my ascent, because I know any vocal protests will not gain any merit. This is just a topic the good doctor and I will simply have to agree to disagree on, because accepting my irreversible shortcomings is something I can and will continue to live with, no matter how unhealthy another might deem it.

"Actually Dr. Mason the one thing that helped me gain some measure of acceptance in the matter, was when I learned from Mrs. Frederick that the bell was never used again, nor had it resurfaced in over a hundred years not until it strangely came to be in the possession of Walter Sykes."

Dr. Mason stirs in his chair minutely. "It seems Mr. Sykes had quite a fascination with you, or I suppose more accurately all things Warehouse related."

"I fear it was both." I reply sullenly and under my breath. Resigning myself to take a break from the topic I rise up off the settee and move towards my therapists bookshelves; his eyes follow me. So much about a person I feel can be gleaned from their choices in literature. Unsurprisingly many texts on his profession line the shelves, but also works from names I've come to appreciate, both new and old: Jean-Paul Sartre, Friedrich Nietzsche, Mary Wollstonecraft and then I notice a section of names I have only begun to recognize as people after my own heart. Works from Robert A. Heinlein, Isaac Asimov, Ambrose Bierce, Edgar Rice Burroughs and a long gone friend L. Frank Baum who dreamed up a land called 'Oz', and then I notice a new personal favorite-Ray Bradbury. I remove the fine leather bound volume and upon opening it I notice it's a first edition signed by the author himself.

"Have you read any of Mr. Bradbury's writings Helena?"

I smile and place the book back on the shelf in its clearly reserved spot. "Yes I have." I reply with a smile, amusement lacing my voice that the good doctor knew precisely what book I had in hand without even hardly turning in his seat to watch me. "I greatly enjoyed Fahrenheit 451 as well, because it foretold so many things that have come to pass in this modern world, for example watching people on large screens mounted on the wall, which rings true to those large flat screen televisions people have now." I reply as I walk back to the settee and sit down in my usual spot. "And also how books were ruthlessly abridged or altered to accommodate persons with a short attention span in his novel, which I feel is all too frighteningly accurate when considering some of the books published in this day and age."

"Very clever and I agree completely." Dr. Mason adds animatedly, which makes me smile and very much like Myka here is another person I can have an intelligent discussion on literature with. "I personally feel that Bradbury drew the book burning from the Nazi's and the repression of outdated writings he used in his story from the 'Great Purge' of Stalin's campaign." He continues, passion coloring his voice which in turn makes me smile a bit.

Of course I'm aware of the events he is referring to, which was just a few of the many events that once I learned occurred while I was inert, only disheartened me further on this failed utopia I awoke to. "You know in comparison to Mr. Bradbury and myself, I must say he saw things as they were designed to play out, whereas I wanted only the best of things to bear fruit and reshape the world." I say all the while marveling at how my thoughts once ran, and how jaded I quickly became in terms of 'hope'. But each person has their limits, and the limit of heartache I could withstand was exceeded; her death, and my choices thereafter did not provide the balm to remedy my greatest loss.

"Helena, I wish the world would've lived up to your expectations." Dr. Mason says solemnly. "It may still, because I see mankind as an ever evolving experiment in progress."

I smirk and clasp my hands together on my lap, and looking up I notice the time and for once I'm eager to finish my purge for this session, a difficult one as it were, so I choose to shift the subject back. "Are you aware Dr. Mason that for a time I spoke with a doctor much like yourself?"

He smiles, "Yes, because believe it or not Helena your file that I have in hand does go back that far."

I laugh lightly, but it quickly fades. "But by the time it was recommended that I seek council I was past helping, so in the autumn of 1899 after my complete time travel failure in Paris I elected to be bronzed; I had just turned thirty three years old."

Dr. Mason shifts in his chair once more and crosses his legs, and I notice a small smile playing on his face. "You know Helena I've come to look forward to our sessions, and in the three months since your breakthrough I have learned so much, and not to abandon todays main goal despite both of us stalling, but you have yet to tell me the most basic bit." I smirk and mindlessly shrug and he continues. "Tell me about your Victorian self and Mr. Wolcott."

The rapid shift in topic forces the most natural progression in me; dark gives way to light, and I smile fondly as the memories come flooding back. "Well, I refused to be reduced to wearing Edwardian fashions; when not entertaining in my own home mind you, but those damned S-curve corsets I determined would be the death of me." I reply in jest and Dr. Mason chuckles lightly. "A woman could hardly breathe without gasping for air, and since the brain requires oxygen to speak I often regarded that corset as another cloaked attempt by men to silence women."

Dr. Mason shakes his head and makes a few notes on a small pad of paper. "Not really the answer I hoped for, but charmingly entertaining nonetheless."

I roll my eyes, "To my knowledge it is well documented on what everyday life was like for women in my time, granted I was more well off than most, but it was no different for me mostly. My apprenticeship and eventual promotion to full agent at Warehouse Twelve was the only exception to my life." At Dr. Mason's silence, save for the sound of his scribbles on paper I continue. "Mr. Wolcott or Wolly as I often called him became a surrogate brother to me. He was so very sweet to me; a nervous chap, and perhaps a bit too in awe of my growing legend at the Warehouse." I say smiling while recalling Wolly's rather stiff posture, but playful smile and bright blue eyes. Wolly's been gone a long time, but yet I can still recall the sound of his voice. I inhale deeply and look directly at Dr. Mason, only to find him looking at me with a small smile of his own lighting up his features.

"See that wasn't too difficult now was it?" He asks playfully condescending while looking into my eyes; having long since abandoned his notes, and then I look down noticing my small journal sitting atop his notes. "Now coming back to the hard stuff; your time spent in bronze, I asked you to write about your imprisonment." Dr. Mason says carefully. "And I trust in the spirit of your therapy you elected to be...unguarded in your feelings?"

The reserved and redundant quality of his question is disarming, so I nod and gesture for him to freely open my journal that is resting on his lap. I observe the way his long fingers open the book to peruse the pages with quiet rusting sounds, until he finds my latest entry about the topic at hand. I turn my head and gaze out the large window in his office, the view is modest; tops of trees and the overcast skies are the only coloring to this day's palette. So I watch the clouds, some darker than others mixing in with lighter ones, and I find it perplexing that such things can coalesce into one being to change and emerge like a butterfly from a cocoon. I close my eyes and recall my words that Dr. Mason is silently reading, the bluntness in those words are none to be taken lightly and the feelings they evoke are ones that I have never shared with another living soul.

_Bronze Confinement, 1899-2010..._

I had never been privy to a darkness like this, and it's suffocating in fact. Rather like a dark night where there is no moon or stars, and the only sounds are your own imagined slow breathing and the only company was my thoughts which never ceased and they gradually decayed to the frayed ends of what remained of my sanity. Imagine struggling against invisible restraints; granted I asked for my imprisonment, although as my fate unfolded I realized far too late what I allowed to be done to my person. I had no real inkling what madness was until I was encased in bronze. Silent screams against blackened infinity, fists clenched in defiance with no room to lash out. Looking back now, I would have been slightly less tortured had I been confined to a small windowless room; at least then I could've moved. So with each passing day, month, year I lost the sensation of my limbs; they were still there, but I began to understand the 'phantom limb' scenario with a renewed perspective.

Even the most involuntary yet essential function such as breathing ceased to be relevant. You see in my immobile state my chest could not rise and collapse as it were meant too, but yet I lived on by the grace of an ancient artifact. So day by day, I stared at the backs of my eyelids for what slowly became over a century and the only warm thought I had in my shell that provided me with any solace was my plan. It was my anchor, my tether, the last place I could call home and a poor substitute at that. I had it all down to a science before I became a living monument to true torture, but I ignored the variables that could occur should I ever be freed from my captivity and rationalized I would be at some point in the future. But I couldn't have fathomed such a person as Myka Bering existing, then becoming an important part of my life and thus making me; quite willingly I might add, thwart my best laid plans.

Freedom was grand and my first breaths hurt, my limbs felt numb, but the muscle memory returned with each passing minute, and as I ambled out into the blinding sun I felt it was my rebirth.

* * *

**Soundtrack:**** "Hangmans Body Count" by Volbeat, "Adrenaline" by Gavin Rossdale, "Happy?" by God Lives Underwater & "Everyday Is Exactly The Same" by Nine Inch Nails**

**Parting Words:**** I never saw H.G. as a 'villian', because she always struck me as more the tragic character type. I hope you liked the action scene/Wolly cameo (I did try my best) and the dialogue between H.G. and my OC. Btw, more is on the way in due time.**


	3. Phase Three: One Fourth Moon

A/N: I hope you've enjoyed this offering so far. I'm trying for complex and halfway decent but this is ultimately just something I've wanted to see myself, for better or worse. Reminder: Still in H.G.'s POV peeps.

* * *

**(~Phase Three: 1/4 Moon~)**

* * *

_The Janus Coin Confinement & Hong Kong 2011..._

Even my overactive imagination could never have thought up a practical application of how to contain a person's consciousness, I really do wish I had thought of it first. Not unlike before I welcomed my punishment once again, I thoroughly embraced my defeat with open arms and yet I felt it wasn't penance enough. I hurt someone, a person whom I never wanted to inflict any damage towards, but my own stubborn nature demanded it. When that gold coin was dropped into the palm of my hand, the world as I knew it fell away and my body became a blank slate. Whereas my mind remained my own, and when I wasn't 'activated' for lack of a better term, it was if I'd been sleeping and each time it was an awakening of sorts.

I will always be able to recall all those little reprieves where I was allowed to see Myka; both good and bad. The first time was in her parents bookstore, I was quite taken with its warm and welcoming feel, and yes I know how truly senseless that sounds when I was but a hologram. However, I was rather glad my body wasn't there in the flesh so to speak, because when Myka saw me and then I heard the venom in her words, I wanted to cringe. For me upon seeing her again, for just the briefest of moments the things I had done ceased to exist for me, and for that instance I thought she would be pleased to see me, because I was happy to see her, however that wasn't the truth within the moment.

I knew that while Myka granted me forgiveness yet again, I only continued to wound her further each time we saw one another. There is no room for doubt in my mind that I truly dug the proverbial knife in deeper when I condoned my own destruction, when I bid Pete to destroy the harbinger of my consciousness-the Janus coin. Seeing Myka and the unmasked heartache present in her watery eyes and voice was rather like a wedge being inserted into my soul and my noble words the hammer driving it in with an elegant brutality. And to truly confess myself I need to say that had I been in my body, I would've kissed Myka goodbye in that lush green forest, under the sunshine without a care to whom was watching. I don't think she would've objected either to my forwardness, or rather I hoped she wouldn't; it doesn't matter now.

Saying goodbye to Claudia also twisted my feelings quite a lot, she admired me and believed in me also. I never had a sister and to me Claudia is an excellent option to fill that spot, but I fear I also let her down just as I've done Myka. So many bridges I have burned, but hopefully not beyond repair.

Then I was reunited with my body by Mr. Walter Sykes, a true villain. This man was bent on destruction, which I could relate to, but his reasons were far removed from mine. He knew so much about me, far beyond what he learned from a file. Walter Sykes knew about my affection towards Myka, before he even saw the two of us in the room together and then I suppose I confirmed his hypothesis. And when Skyes forced me to put Myka in harm's way, in that deadly chair I could scarcely breathe, the whole time I could only think of the ways I had disappointed her, only this time it would be fatal. I remember how badly my hands shook, and it wasn't the weight of the firearm in my hands, it was the effort of trying to control my emotions. Despite it all Myka's belief in me never wavered, because in the time from opening the chess lock to reopening the portal to Warehouse Thirteen, she once again reasserted my non-villainous status and praised the goodness that lay within me, no matter how deeply buried it was or still is to my own eyes.

Running through the Warehouse looking for a means to diffuse the bomb erased any thoughts I had of finally alluding to Myka my affinity for her. So I reduced it to a romantic notion I had while my consciousness was in the Janus coin, that I could freely confess myself to her, but in the flesh it became a choice that I didn't want to make any longer. So as I found a way to save Artie, Pete and Myka my safety seemed completely irrelevant, which is why in my mind my extreme self-sacrificing nature was predominate at the time. I can recall even as I write these words that I would've felt it was a good death, noble and far better than I deserved. But I can also remember smelling apples; the Warehouse has always liked me.

Looking at it now dispassionately, it was all a bit of Shakespeare really; to be willing to die for her, because in life we could never be. I can't accurately remember, nor do I really want to, what I would've said to Myka before I was immolated in the explosion, because no words that spring to mind now could ever measure the unending boundaries of love I've come to feel for her. But was I or am I really worthy of such a precious gift?

_Warehouse 13, 2012..._

Arthur plead on my behalf to the Regents and I was ultimately granted complete freedom. I could barely fathom why this man; who made absolutely no effort to mask his extreme loathing of my person, would suddenly change his mind. Of course I found out why much later, but until that revelation I was curious to no end. However, I never approached him or anyone really and I never went back to the B&B. Instead I moved to Featherhead and resided in one of their very nice hotels on my stipend from the Warehouse. Eventually I was granted access to my family's wealth, and I learned that an author truly does accrue a fair amount of interest in a hundred years. Then I was a probationary Agent once more, working alone, and mostly assignments handed to me directly by the Regents. I missed Myka dearly, but as the weeks passed the pain lessened, or at least I told myself that enough times that I began believing it.

Then out of the blue Artie requested my assistance in locating an artifact, I stalled of course for obvious reasons, namely for fear of interacting with Myka. Nonetheless, I reported all my actions to Mrs. Frederick after telling Artie I would look into the matter. But having so many unanswered questions began to eat at me, so I discretely made my way to the B&B to see Artie in person, to update him on my progress in locating the artifact he tasked me to find, but mostly I went to confront him for answers, and ones he freely gave after I pressed him hard in my own charming way. I almost couldn't believe he found and used Magellan's Astrolabe, and then I wondered exactly why he went back and what he changed. A few weeks later, once again I discretely made my way to the Warehouse; Leena the pure soul that she is understood why I was avoiding Myka, mind you she didn't condone it but she understood. Once again confronting Artie, Mrs. Frederick, Leena and I finally learned the truth that Warehouse was destroyed and myself along with it.

When I was ordered to disappear with the Astrolabe a multitude of thoughts crossed my mind. The most obvious was my loyalty being tested on many levels; me being entrusted with something that not so long ago would've held an unimaginable temptation. Another part would be my fortitude to follow orders to not contact anyone, which I did without question. Even though it was a legitimate request by my superior, I felt as if I were being exiled. My thoughts naturally went to Myka as soon as I stepped out of the Dark Vault with the Astrolabe, I had been avoiding her and now I can't even tell her goodbye. So I quietly left and didn't look back.

_Boone, 2014..._

If I could travel back in time and really change things clearly I would. After all in the past I have tried valiantly, but despite my efforts I always came up empty handed. And it goes without saying the trials of my failure will always weigh heavily on my heart. I have made so many mistakes, despite my deductive logic to know better, and in my pursuits I have wounded a great many people. But one person I have utterly destroyed, and I so plainly witnessed the destruction on her brave face, as she stood there and cast aside her own heart solely to ensure my false happiness. So much sadness overtook me that I could barely breathe as I watched her leave, yet I did nothing to stop her. Now all that's left is my own little farcical world that is now all the more lacking in her absence. Sadly, I feel I've all but squandered an opportunity for something I had yet to truly experience in my life and that is my one.

Later during my interloper days in Warehouse Thirteen, I learned from Leena that Myka's father had read her my stories as a child. To say it moved me is a gross understatement. Honestly, knowing that my Myka grew up listening to my words, being enraptured by them was immensely flattering. I often wondered if I lived up to her expectations as a child that if she would've been able to meet me, was I what she expected minus the mustache of course. I never asked her during our time together; granted I was too busy plotting my next move, but I really wish I'd had the courage and asked now.

To be forthright, I couldn't have loved her the way she deserved to be loved. By rights I am the most damaged person one could chose, and by that sound logic I felt she was choosing poorly. Or perhaps it was my fear of the unknown? In my time I reveled in the unknown; coveted it really, but now maybe it's my hundred and forty eight years bearing down on me. I just couldn't in good conscience stay to properly court Myka, even after I sacrificed myself for her. And all the while I embraced the notion that I was willingly throwing away yet another chance with her; pushing her away was the hardest thing I've done in a very long time.

* * *

"So you knew of the Astrolabe before Arthur Nielsen used it?" Dr. Mason asks, as he reverently closes my journal almost as if it were something precious; one of a kind. "And it was the one artifact that could have given you your Christina back, and had you been able to acquire it back in your Warehouse Twelve days would you have used it knowing the cost that comes with it?."

I offer him my best close-lipped smile."Yes on both counts, because there's no price too high for me. Her death brought me to madness, and I doubt the Astrolabe could have done any worse by me." Dr. Mason nods and then makes some notes in my file that is also resting on his lap. "And yes I knew about the Astrolabe long before Artie used it."

"I must say of the artifacts I've inadvertently learned about in my time helping agents," Dr. Mason says not looking away from his writings. "it certainly sounds like one of the most powerfully frightening ones."

"Yes." I reply absently. "And just as fear inducing as the piece of masonry from the House of Commons."

"That was the artifact that destroyed the Warehouse in another timeline correct?"

I simply nod, as my thoughts form into one clear picture-my death. I look directly at Dr. Mason whose attention is on my file that lay before him; open and resting comfortably on his lap.

"So when Arthur told you had died in another timeline how did that make you feel?"

I close my eyes briefly, and then open them to be met with Dr. Mason's blue-gray graze that is now resting levelly on me. "Like all the wind had been let out of my sails; I courted death frequently in my previous life, but I never imagined it would actually get its hands on me, as incredulous as that sounds."

"You sacrificed your life for Myka." He says as he closes my file and places it on the table separating us.

"I did."

A small pause permeates the air, and I realize he thinks I've withheld some small truth in my journal and I did. "And in those last moments; if you wanted to remember, what do you think you would've said to Myka?"

I close my eyes and my chest tightens at the notion of such a thing, I simply couldn't bring myself to acknowledge an atrocity like that by giving it a life on paper. "I would have told her that I loved her, and that I wish I had said it much earlier, as clichéd as that sounds."

"So you don't love her anymore?"

I exhale loudly and will not a single tear to gather in my eyes. "Have you not read some of my most personal thoughts? I will never stop loving her, it's just the small matter of me." I reply curtly while leaning back in the settee, its warm leather making a small noise under my shifting weight. "Myka can do better." I add accidentally.

"If you say so Helena, although I find that very unfair and selfish of you really." Dr. Mason retorts as he leans forward to place my journal on the small table between us too. "Myka deserves a say, she impresses me to no end and if someone like that was in love with me I wouldn't turn them away, because that kind of love tends to make people be better than the sum of their parts."

I smile genuinely at this romantic soul before me that is masquerading as a therapist. "That's a very beautiful notion, despite the fact you haven't met Myka, but you do know some of the worst parts of me."

Dr. Mason returns my smile as he shifts somewhat uncomfortably in his chair. "I only know what you have chosen to divulge to me about yourself, and it has only made me want to help you more; everyone needs help at one time or another Helena."

There are no words that spring to mind to express my gratitude to this man, so I opt for silence as a simple thank you. Which he recognizes and simply looks at me with reverence for a moment.

"Now if you don't mind I would like to shift gears for a moment, I would like to hear about you as a writer."

I sigh and cross my legs, while leaning forward on the settee to clasp my hands over my knees. "Nothing to talk about really; I was the brains, while my brother welded the pen."

Dr. Mason smirks. "Be that as it may, it doesn't change the fact that those books would not exist had you not dreamed up their contents."

"Clever." I scoff good naturedly. "And a rather obvious point that you no doubt felt compelled to make."

"Helena,you know your brother might have helped with the writing, but as a fan I feel compelled to point out that the books published under the moniker H.G. Wells while you were bronzed." Dr. Mason pauses and smiles at me politely. "I found them to be lacking, they just didn't read the way the earlier books did. And of course now I know why, because the muse and the creator herself was unavailable."

I laugh lightly mostly at my therapist telling me he is a fan of my writing and yet I haven't seen a single book on his shelves to prove such a claim. "Charles took all the accolades, but I owe him something greater." I inhale deeply, because just saying her name always causes pain in my heart. "He was Christina's father; I did not give birth to her. Had that have happened to an unmarried woman such as myself in my time, I would've been disowned and driven away. So I raised her as my own, she was my niece and my daughter."

"I know Christina's death hit you so very hard, for many reasons which I think doesn't need to be repeated here today." Dr. Mason states and I find myself battling tears again, only this time it's compounded due to the gentle tone of his voice. "Helena, going on with your life is healthy, but so we're clear your daughter is irreplaceable. There is no replacement in this world that will ever fill her shoes." I look at him sternly, through watery eyes. "However, you can find a more fulfilling happiness and then life takes over; who knows what will happen then?"

"You're talking about Myka aren't you?"

Dr. Mason gives me a small guarded smile. "Is or was there really anyone else?"

A small sob springs out of me. "No."

I feel drained and exposed after what I just let pour out of me, and the chime signaling the end of my session feels like the bell sounding after a boxing match. I uncross my legs and wipe under my eyes on impulse, and prepare to stand.

"That's enough for today Helena," Dr. Mason says as he rises from his chair across from me. "But before you leave there's someone who would like to have a word with you."

I hear the door to Dr. Mason's office open. "Ms. Wells." And at the sound of a familiar voice, I turn around in my seated position to see the authorative figure that belongs to Mr. Adwin Kosan.

* * *

I fall quietly into bed utterly exhausted by the events of these last few weeks. This was multiplied even further tonight by having to explain things to my boyfriend; as they are titled these days, that I'm going to have to leave within the next few days. I may have deliberately left out the part that I won't be coming back for now, but I felt there had to be a limit on what I could tell him; Nate after all is not my one. And I have to acknowledge that after saying it all out loud I feel completely ridiculous hiding away in this pleasant, yet simple existence now. I never wanted this picture when it was being forced upon me by my own family more than a hundred years ago, I wanted something more. I had endless wonder, but a life like that comes with a price, but then again it all does no matter its exterior. I feel I have become timid in my advanced age; still it hardly justifies me telling the one person who knows and accepts me for who I really am that she is replaceable and unwanted. I can hardly sleep, and why would I after over a hundred of being immobile, which is yet another thing the man lying next to me will never understand and I don't have it in me to try that conversation. I close my eyes and will my mind to shut down if only for a spell. So many things I've said and done to her that I wish I could undo.

* * *

I told her once not to walk away from her truth. Pity, that its now painfully obvious I wasn't smart enough to follow my own advice when it truly mattered. I walk closer now that everyone is gone, and then my knees just give out and make contact with the grass, the dampness seeps through my trousers chilling me. I clutch my chest, because my heart aches and I know my tears will never dry; I can't breathe. This feeling only happened once before and I almost didn't survive it, it's the same as I felt when Christina was taken from me; a hollow empty ache in my heart.

Unbidden images of Myka flash before my eyes, much like they did when the Regents used that infernal Janus coin to effectively neuter me. I don't see myself returning to Boone, but I can't stay here either. I would've given my last drop of blood to have had another chance to have told her the truth for once, and maybe then she would have stayed for me and I would have stayed for her this time. I shall never run out of tears for this cruel kismet of fate, over a hundred years had to pass before I met my Myka, who was my one and she was amazing. Inhaling sharply I force myself to look up at her granite monument, and I can't see her name because a torrent of tears has clouded my vision.

"H.G. you have to get up." I startle a little at Pete's somber voice, because I didn't hear his approach.

For the first time in my life I have nothing to say, and at my silence I hear Pete move closer. Then I feel his hand on my arm gently pulling me to stand. My knees feel weak, everything is wrong. A few silent minutes pass, but I wait because I have nowhere else I want to be.

"I lost my best friend H.G. and...a important part of my family." Pete says breaking our stalemate; his voice wavering from this staggering sadness. I feel his hand slip off my arm and he just stands closely beside me. "I...I don't know...what I'm going to do now." His voice is so broken, it just serves to make my tears flow more freely. "I loved her; Mykes was like my sister and now she's gone and I..." Pete's voice trails off for a moment, and I clench my hands into fists in a vain attempt to staunch the flow of my tears. "I know you loved her too H.G. and maybe if you had stayed she would've stayed a little longer."

"Pete..."

"No, Helena let me finish." Pete interrupts and I'm actually relieved he did. "She loved you flaws and all, and there was no one else. I saw people go after her and none of them were good enough in my eyes for her, but that didn't matter because she didn't want them."

I sniffle and turn to finally face Pete, and the sight causes something to break inside me more. His face is a portrait of grief, and I feel it to be a mirror of my own; the sunken eyes rimmed in red and his normal stature seems almost slumped and withered.

"I'm sorry I was such a shit to you sometimes Helena, but you were a shit to Myka most of the time." Pete says looking directly into my eyes. "And I felt I had to stand up for her, because you hung the moon and the stars in her eyes and in my mind you hadn't earned that from her."

I close my eyes and I feel the fresh tears pressing hard against my eyelids. "I know Pete and I agree with you completely."

"But you're here now H.G...why?" Pete asks with a shrug, and I turn away from his questioning expression. "Because it's too late now Helena."

I startle awake clutching my hand over my thudding heart, and then I feel hot tears run down both of my cheeks. I cover my mouth to stifle a sob while chancing a glance towards my companion in bed, who barely moves despite the disturbance. But for that I'm glad, I've lied to him and to a little girl who as Myka and Dr. Mason observed as a replacement for someone who cannot be replaced. I compose myself and run my hands tiredly over my face and then I quietly slip from beneath the bedcovers. The cool air of the room hits my bare feet and causes a slight shiver to arise within me. I silently move across the room and open the door, leaving the bedroom I vow to stop lying to everyone but mostly to myself above all.

The dream lingers as I write in my small brown journal that has become my salvation. The desolate feeling gradually wanes as I recall and commit the nightmare to its pages. A tear falls from my eye and lands upon the words: 'If Myka were to be taken from me, I don't know what would become of me; bronzing wouldn't be an option.'

In the empty early morning hours in a borrowed quaint kitchen, from a stolen life I sip my tea. A long overdue revelation has occurred; Emily Lake has no past and no future, and to think it only took several months of therapy to gain that small bit of wisdom. I finish off my tea and place the cup in the basin, just as Adelaide passes through and smiling at me she grabs her backpack and leaves for school. On this day I find myself looking forward to my last session with Dr. Mason, for guidance on a way to say thank you and to ask him how to properly say goodbye to two people who have been good to me, even after everything. But yet they are the same people who said nothing after witnessing the only person on this Earth; that I love beyond words, willingly walk out of my life because she thought I was content. And if I'm being honest with myself for once, she left because I made her believe that I didn't want her and that I couldn't love her under any circumstances.

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**Soundtrack:**** "Far Behind" by Candlebox, "Too Afraid To Love You" by The Black Keys, "Ohne Dich" by Rammstein & "In Joy And Sorrow" by HIM **

**Parting Words:**** Thank you for reading this and liking it is completely up to you. Myka will be along shortly, I promise. This story was engineered to be very H.G.-centric because she was never a main character on the show (should've been though) so I ask for your patience even if you're chomping at the bit for Myka.**


	4. Phase Four: Waxing Gibbous

A/N: This chapter marks the end H.G.'s POV for now. I covered what I felt was the best parts in regards to the therapy sessions, which in this suspended reality occurred over many months. Now that's out of the way on with my regularly scheduled offering.

* * *

**(~Phase Four: Waxing Gibbous~)**

* * *

I watch as Dr. Mason intently inspects my journal and at his seemingly snail's pace I find myself oddly impatient today. "I had a horrible dream about Myka last night." I blurt out, before he can get to the pages that contain the details of said nightmare that I spent the early morning hours encapsulating on paper.

He looks up from the pages in front of him to gaze at me with concern. "Would you like to talk about it first today?"

"Yes." I answer hurriedly while shifting forward to sit on the settee's cushions edge. Dr. Mason closes my journal and remains behind his desk, waiting as I try to gather my thoughts and feelings into speech. The room is quiet, save for the ticking of a small antique clock on one of his book shelves and unlike some ticking bomb, it's merely counting away the silence. "I dreamt of her death." I say quietly, those words merely a whispered breath, as if saying it any louder will make that nightmare a reality. My vision blurs and I take a deep breath. "I don't know how she died, but it doesn't matter because I could never survive if something were to happen to Myka, even though death is a reality we all have to face." My voice trails off and I feel so very lost, unbalanced and adrift.

"Helena, the dream is your subconscious acting out in fear." Dr. Mason says calmly, as he leans forward in his chair. "We've spent a good deal of time discussing Myka and its only natural after your; shall we say epiphany, two weeks ago at our last session. And since this dream resonated with you to such a degree I think..."

"I have no issues with my own eventual death." I interrupt, because I cannot remain silent any longer. "But I cannot imagine a world without Myka in it." I feel a cool tear slide down my cheek and linger, before it falls. "It would be poorer for it."

Minutes pass in silence and before what I just confessed can get the upper hand on me, I look away from my confessor and glance over at his bookshelves. And I notice something that hadn't been there before, some of my books and from the looks of them they're old. Without closer inspection I can't confirm it, but they appear to be fine leather-bound volumes, I do wonder if they are first editions? Clearly he wasn't lying about being familiar with my books, but then my next thought is why he removed them in the first place? Regardless, my name now lingers with the others who line his designated place of honor and it makes me smile inwardly; even through the turmoil churning inside me.

"I think instead of talking about her with me today, maybe it's time you called her Helena." The statement pulls my attention away from his bookshelves, and I suddenly feel akin to if I had just surfaced from some great depth for air.

"What?"

Dr. Mason smiles. "You heard me, and yes I own some of your books and yes I removed them when I accepted you as a patient."

I laugh and feel a little lighter. "Why did you remove them, were you ashamed that I would take you less seriously?"

He laughs and it makes me laugh again. "Helena, call her. If only to hear your friend's voice, because we both know you want to." I mockingly glare at Dr. Mason after his blunt, but no less than true statement.

He smirks. "Call Myka, Helena."

I continue to glare at him, and he just sighs and clears his throat. "I removed your books because I didn't want to seem like such a 'fanboy.' There the big mystery is solved; moving on now." He replies with mirth coloring his muddled accent delightfully.

"I am familiar with that term, and I see no harm or a demeaning quality to it whatsoever." I retort playfully. "After all upon inspection you do seem to have excellent taste in literature."

Dr. Mason laughs loudly, and I suddenly feel like my usual cocky yet charming self again. "You certainly are modest Helena." He jokes and I smile while laughing lightly in return.

"Seriously now, when was the last time you saw Myka or called her?" He asks after our laughter peters off, and I feel rather ashamed of the truth I'm about to utter aloud.

I smile sadly, "Ten months ago." And then I'm instantly transported back to our last hug, and watching Myka try to hold in her tears which she barely managed to do. The memory itself makes my heart ache, and I reach for my necklace; feeling the cool metal against my fingertips is always strangely soothing.

Dr. Mason stands up from behind his desk and moves around it until he comes to stand a few meters from me. "A person's choices are their own, even the bad ones are not without their merit, because we all make mistakes and in turn we are supposed to learn from them, not doom ourselves to repeat them." I simply look up at Dr. Mason; carefully considering his words. He gives me a small smile and turns to sit down in the chair adjacent to the settee, where he usually sits during our sessions. "These past eight months you've been coming to see me have been by far the most challenging I've ever done as a therapist, and I've met some interesting souls doing this work for the Warehouse." He says reverently and I lean back into the settee, as his comforting timbre fills the space between us.

I've always known he was Warehouse affiliated, hence why Mrs. Frederick arranged these sessions when I finally informed her that I had given the Astrolabe back to the brotherhood, and wanted a break from life as an agent. Granted it took me a more than a few months to schedule my first session, I was too busy ensuring my place in a man's home that I barely knew.

"Our time is almost up Ms. Wells in more ways than one," Dr. Mason's calm voice interrupts my thoughts. "I'm pleased to inform you that you've come far in your treatment, but a great deal of the progress yet to be made is solely up to you."

"I am aware of that." I answer indifferently.

"Good, but I do have one last piece of guidance for you." Dr. Mason replies as rises out of his chair, and moves back to his desk. "Call her Helena...doctor's orders."

I faintly chuckle at his suggestions phrasing and the now all too familiar bluntness. "Well then if it be your will and if you'll kindly excuse me for a moment I shall get right on that." I retort as I rise off the settee and move towards the door. I turn back to look at my therapist for his witty rebuttal, but Dr. Mason simply shakes his head and shoo's me away as he sits down behind his desk. So with a smirk I turn to open the door and then I quietly close the it behind me.

* * *

After leaving his office for the last time, and once I'm out on the street I take out my cell phone and begin to dial a number that is seemingly ingrained into my subconscious. As I hold my cell phone to my ear, I feel my heart start to fluctuate within my chest with each passing ring.

"Hello?"

Her voice is just as velvety as I remember, and it causes a warmth to blossom within me.

"Hello, Myka." I answer timidly yet with a growing smile on my face.

"Helena?"

I smile at the surprise evident in her voice. "Of course darling, how many persons with a British accent do you have calling you?"

"What do you want?" At the immediate and unmistakable irritation in her voice, the smile falls off my face.

I steel myself and begin walking down the sidewalk. "I did promise you coffee and I was hoping we could do that sometime soon."

"I can't H.G."

I stop walking abruptly at the raw sound of dismissive anger in Myka's voice, that and the fact she didn't call me by my given name. And then an older man walking by bumps into me, but keeps moving without apologizing.

An uncomfortable silence stretches between us; my throat is suddenly burning and I can feel the promise of tears on the horizon. "Why not Myka?"

"I just can't Helena, not now...I have to go." And with that Myka ends the connection before I can say anything more.

It's as if my vision narrows and the whole world goes silent, except for my frantic heartbeat and then I feel the same sensation that occurred in my dream about Myka's death wash over me. Has the love she offered me withered on the vine in my absence? Have I truly lost all that mattered because I wasn't ready and afraid? Why did I have to be so dismissive when I saw her last? What have I done? My lungs are burning because I have ceased to breathe, and even on this sunny and fair autumn evening I feel as if a dark and unforgiving winter has quickly descended upon me.

* * *

_Janus Coin Confinement, 2011 : Addendum..._

My greatest tell of affection for Myka was after the Joshua's Trumpet mission, which I aided in even though in my incorporeal form I felt rather useless and easily ignored. After not having seen her for many months as it felt to me at the time, our last encounter being when Mrs. Frederick brought me to Myka's family bookstore. And just like that moment in the bookstore, I couldn't refrain from brazenly appreciating the person before me, as she meticulously placed the artifact in its new home on the Warehouse's shelf. I remember feeling foolish and uncharacteristically awkward, because I wanted nothing more than to finally show some display of affection towards her, but alas I could not.

So we simply talked in a roundabout way of my actions in Yellowstone and the emotions they stirred up in us both. Her voice sounded hurt, but light at the same time. So I hastily managed to tell her in the most reverent and endearing way that I thought we made a good team; she agreed. And then although I had no lungs physically when she uttered those words: 'And then you...' My breath left me at the sound of her voice; so forlorn, and because I was afraid of how Myka was going to finish that sentence. But to my surprise her last words were more melancholy than anything else. I too wish now with all that I possess that I had realized what I was doing sooner, but fate had other plans. And my self prescribed penance at the time was to accept I had lost my last opportunity of exploring the possibility of having something more with Myka, I can't recall any other time in my entire existence of being utterly selfless. Still when she was about to turn off the device that held my consciousness, I reached for my necklace for its comfort because of the look on Myka's face; acceptance that this was goodbye, even though she didn't want it to be and neither did I.

* * *

I walk briskly back to Dr. Mason's office trying to keep my tears at bay a fraction longer. His receptionist has already left for the day, so I go directly back to his office; still holding onto my decorum, I knock on his door before letting myself in.

"Ms. Wells?" Dr. Mason says worriedly, looking up from my small brown journal on his desk. Obviously I interrupted him reading the final contents of my tome; my last dregs, which have been my rawest of emotions laid bare and housed in its simple pages.

My tears finally fall with abandon at the sound of his tender and somber voice. "Myka doesn't want to see me anymore...I've...I've lost her." I sob out, while frantically wiping my eyes with one hand. And then realizing I'm still clutching my cell phone in my other hand; suddenly I rather feel like hurtling it into the nearest wall, but I refrain from doing so. Instead I sit down on Dr. Mason's settee in my usual place, which in itself is a small comfort right now.

"Helena, the days of Myka running to your aide is over." He says gently, but his words are stinging the fresh wound. So I glare brokenly at Dr. Mason but he only smiles sadly in return. "I had to be blunt, I can't in good conscience tell you what you want to hear, and as difficult as it might be to bear now, I felt it was something you needed to learn on your own." I watch as he rises from behind his desk, closing my journal and then his briefcase beside it. "What lies ahead is something I can't help you with." He adds and then I hear the clicks of the locks on his briefcase. I lower my head and wipe under my eyes; I fear there isn't anything to be done for the permanent ache in my chest now.

"Helena." I look up just as Dr. Mason comes to stand in front of me, and I notice he's holding my journal in his other hand. "You should keep this." He says kindly, while offering the small and unassuming book back to me. "This is a heartbreakingly beautiful chronicle of how true love eats, breathes, overcomes flaws and forgives unconditionally; I'm envious of what you can have." I sit up straight and look up into his gray-blue eyes.

"Can have?" I ask reaching for the small brown leather clad book.

Dr. Mason smiles knowingly. "The H.G. Wells I've come to know is a stubborn fighter. So are you going to fight this to the bone like a bare knuckles fighter, or are you going to let go and settle for something mediocre and never know your one?"I smile warmly at him. "And a few words to the newly wise Helena; take your time, I've helped you as much as I can but the rest is up to you. Settle your affairs with Nathaniel and Adelaide, and when you're ready, when you're certain, go pay Ms. Bering a visit."

"What if she won't see me?" I whisper out.

"From one Englishmen to another so to speak, that's where the fighting part comes in handy." Dr. Mason replies reassuringly. "Because what you two have is something that if it were me, I wouldn't let go of without a ruff scuffle and a black eye to show for it at best."

I smirk as my hand closes over the journal; its leather feels familiar in my grasp and then the slight weight of it settling in my hand as I take possession of it. When the idea was suggested to me all those months ago, I merely laughed. I hadn't kept a journal in a very long time, and even then I fear all I wrote about was embellishments of romantic conquests. Which the thought alone now sickens me that I did such a thing, but it also demonstrates how far removed I became little by little from my 'right mind.'

"Thank you Dr. Mason for everything." I reply reverently.

"Call me Oliver," He states, while readjusting his grip on the briefcase. "Since you're not a patient anymore Helena, and because hopefully you consider me a friend now instead of just your doctor?"

I rise up off the settee and offer my hand, which he takes with a smile. "Oliver it is, and I have never been of the mind to refuse an offer of friendship in any time." I reply smiling, as he gently shakes my hand.

"Good luck Helena and do stay in touch." He says kindly; squeezing my hand before letting go and moving towards the door. "Walk a middle-aged man out?"

I laugh lightly. "I'm a hundred and forty-eight you know."

Oliver laughs and holds the door open for me. "Poor Myka, how did she ever stand that sass of yours?"

I shake my head at him. "She used to like it as I recall, and I consider it my duty to inform you that Myka has some sass of her own." I reply smugly and as intended my rebuttal makes Dr. Mason laugh again.

"I figured as much Helena," He says and I can hear the smile in his voice. "From the way you spoke about Myka. Although I still can't believe you two would deny yourselves." He continues while locking the door to his office. I don't acknowledge his statement and at my silence he continues. "Helena, I know love above all else is complicated; even more so in yours and Myka's case, but it has always saddened me that something so pure should be simple, not an all-out maddening descent and unrequited love is the worst journey of all."

A brief silence falls between us as we walk down the now darkened corridor from his office; our footsteps muffled by the worn carpeting, and I can't help but smile at his eloquent assessment as I tuck my journal under my arm.

"My, my Dr. Mason," I tease while gently knocking his shoulder with mine. "You should have been a writer yourself."

Oliver laughs and we stop at his receptionist's desk where he signs out for the evening. "I'll take that compliment with pride from the great H.G. Wells herself." He retorts, as he places the finishing touches on his elegant signature. "Now if the Warehouse had bronzed Mr. Dickens and I were speaking with him now I might not be so flattered, especially since my parents declared it a must to name me after their favorite book of his 'Oliver Twist.'

I laugh and walk out of the building with Oliver, "Would you have preferred something along the lines of 'Edward' or 'Montgomery' from The Island of Doctor Moreau instead?"

"Yes, actually I would've." He replies smiling. "Although having said that, I know I couldn't tolerate people calling me 'Montie' as a nickname."

Laughter does truly lighten even the heaviest of loads, if only for the short span of time until it fades. A long road is ahead of me, but for once in a long time I feel equipped for what lies before me and I honestly hope for only good things for the first time in a very long time.

* * *

**Soundtrack:**** "The End Of Heartache" by Killswitch Engage, "We" by Volbeat, "Time Is Running Out" by Muse & "I Dare You" by Shinedown**

**Parting Words:**** Myka's POV makes its debut up next. And I would like to offer a very morbidly obese **'**Thank You' to all you peeps along on this ride. I didn't have any expectations for much of an audience for this. Hell, I wouldn't know what to do with truckloads of praise in any form, (but don't get it in your head that I don't appreciate it.) The other fandoms (for the most part) that I wrote for weren't all that receptive towards my writing style or its contents.**


	5. Phase Five: Full Moon

A/N: Here we shift gears, exclusively into Myka's POV from now on. And this is an altered scene from the show you guys should still recognize in some parts, and it's also basically the scene that fueled me to write this whole thing.

* * *

**(~Phase Five: Full Moon~)**

* * *

_The Bed & Breakfast, 2013..._

This seems so stupid to me, because I'm no writer even though I have so much passion for the written word, but here I am unburdening my soul for an audience of one and thank God for that. One word comes to mind now and it's the one word that I will have to face in due time: Closure. I know I'm nowhere near there yet and as hard as it's going to be, I know can no longer entertain impossible feelings anymore, especially after last week. I saw Helena again after a little over six months and I still don't know what I expected to find. I wonder now if maybe I had been prepared and not so much like a raw exposed nerve from the thought of seeing her again after such a long time, things might have gone slightly easier for me. Forewarned is forearmed and I definitely wasn't suitably armed to withstand what I came across, which was H.G. Wells herself living a lie and being supremely happy about it.

God, I know an empty promise when I hear one and H.G.'s coffee promise rings loud and clear. I feel so ashamed now that I couldn't keep from crying in front of her, and that I had to force my words out otherwise I would have collapsed at her feet and begged for her to see me as more than a friend. How did I let myself get so caught up in her? I wouldn't have thought love could make you hate within the same breath. It seems to me as if I never really tried to not let her get under my skin, I remember the first moment I saw her vividly and now I will remember the last with just as much clarity. And of all times to remember my Secret Service training to maintain mental clarity and focus; oddly I never could have accounted I would use it to keep my head while I metaphorically allowed another kind of bullet to pierce my heart.

I close my cheap faux black leather journal that I bought because it reminds me of Harry Houdini's; my first artifact whammy, and slowly swivel my slightly squeaky computer chair away from my desk. Slumping down further into the used feeling of the once firm lumbar support, I absently twirl my hair and of course my mind goes back to what feels like years ago, when its only been days. I silently hope that no one will notice or thankfully not mention my almost permenately red-rimmed eyes, when I have to leave the safety of my room for food. I close my eyes and smother the sob that is waiting to be let out at the emptiness I feel, and by rights it's strong enough to cut down even the tallest and strongest man at the knees.

* * *

"Helena, what the hell was that?" I ask heatedly as I close the door behind us and lock it. I turn around to face her, but instead I'm greeted by the sight of her back.

"I have no ideal to what you are inferring." She says abruptly and I see her shrug in obvious disinterest, "Shall we view the security footage now or not?"

I scoff and to move around her towards the computer terminal, but I stop just shy of it. "Okay...how about this, you made me feel like some cheap floozy in front of those two cops." I state guardedly.

"You asked for my help gaining entrance in here did you not?"

I close my eyes at the bored and agitated sound of her voice, and of course I hate how dismissive she is being with me, which she frankly has been all day. Biting my bottom lip is the only way to keep from really yelling at her, because my patience has just about run out. I turn away from her and pull out the chair in front of the desk that has a few computer monitors perched on it, and quickly sitting down I rapidly tap through the keys to access the security cameras files I need. Focusing on the task at hand calms me down and I almost forget for a few seconds Helena is even in the room.

"I see you've been watching Claudia."

I only smirk to keep from startling in my seat at the intrusion of her voice, which sounded oddly seductive. "We trade tips." I answer simply, not taking my focus off the computer screen. Life is so much easier around H.G. when I have something to distract me, and now even this mission isn't doing it for me, so I take out my phone and bring Pete into the fold as mostly another distraction. I used to be a good agent until I met H.G. and then everything for me just went from black and white to just endless hues of gray. There's nothing I wouldn't or haven't done for her, but the real deafening blow was when I realized just why I was so easily compromised in matters concerning her. After a few useful observations from Helena it begins to almost feel like were back in that dorm room in California three years ago.

"Myka I really need to get home."

The sound of her melodious voice makes me cringe now, because I know precisely what's waiting for her at her new home. Honestly I don't hate the man or his daughter. I can't really since they mean something to Helena, even though I think its complete bullshit, and I would still think that even if I had no emotional investment in her.

"Okay H.G., Pete and I have it handled." I reply trying to keep my voice even.

"Very well then, thank you for all your help Myka." She says dismissively and I just sit there listening to the sound of her boots slowly moving away from me, then the door opening and quietly closing. I feel like I'm going to be sick.

* * *

I really didn't want to go back and get another eyeful of Emily Lake's domestic bliss; also I just couldn't bring myself to be so accepting, like Pete appeared to be. However I am not made of the same matter as my man-child partner, but I would be lying if I said I didn't admire his carefree demeanor, because I could use that right now. Although, I don't envy him in this moment for having to sit there with Helena's boyfriend in the living room and make small talk.

"You know I'm not trying to fight with you on this, I mean you are the one that took my words to..."

"Myka, I can't and simply will not have this discussion with you any further." Helena interrupts heatedly. "Your wild theory of my chosen involvement with Nate because of Adelaide is just too much right now."

I exhale loudly and lean against the island countertop, "You called me out of the blue, and I came here to help you. I'm your friend Helena and do forgive me if I say that hurt like a son of a bitch earlier when you said this is the only place you've felt like you belonged. I mean where did Claude, Artie, Pete and the rest of us wrong you?" I can't bring myself to tell her about Leena when she clearly doesn't care about any of us anymore, least of all me.

Helena leans closer to me and I see her eyes darken in what looks like anger. "I didn't imply that you or the others wronged me as you so aptly put, I meant that this is a place where I have no ambitions or expectations to be placed upon me, I can just be at peace for once in a very long time."

"That's just bullshit Helena." I retort levelly just before Nate's ringing cell phone bursts into our quiet yet emotional conversation, and I'm glad because I was about to go even further off into the deep end.

In a strength I didn't know I had left after this exhausting day, I try to make things right with Helena while still doing my job. And then with some shred of dignity, hopefully I can manage to gracefully make my exit from her new life like she so desperately wants, that doesn't happen though. Watching Helena walks towards me as Pete and I stand in her driveway, I already feel my façade starting to crack. This is finally goodbye and no matter how much I don't want to see it I can. It's all over her face and reflecting out of those dark depths that are her eyes. I really want to hit Pete for all the stupid things he's saying; tell him to just shut up for once, instead I manage to hold it in with a pained smile.

Then I couldn't stop the stupid ideas trickling out of my own mouth, ones that were far worse than what Pete said. But after that everything seemed to blur when an almost undefinable notion occurred to me. I told her she was chasing a ghost earlier but for all appearances I have been too. Also I realize as Helena's timid hug dissipates and her arms fall away from me; we'll both be haunted now for the rest of our days, or at least I will be.

* * *

Hindsight being no less than perfect twenty-twenty, I still couldn't have imagined at breakfast this morning my day would turn out like this. Truthfully I don't think imagining anything anymore is healthy, but the obvious point made to me tonight is: Love isn't enough and certainly not mine. I didn't realize I had been waiting for Helena until she told Pete and I both for that matter about seeking life outside of the Warehouse. And very much like a swift punch in the stomach I was undone; forced to open my eyes and see things clearly, and it hurt. Right now all I can do is try not to cry anymore in front of Pete as we drive back, the silence between us is unsettling but I just can't make myself fill it and brush off my feelings so quickly as if they were no more than a speck of lint on my jacket. I inhale deeply and will my eyes to dry and not one tear to fall until I'm in the privacy of my room back at the B&B.

"Mykes, I want you to know I wasn't defending or condoning H.G.'s choices today." Pete says breaking the muted silence in the car. "I was just thinking out loud and telling her what she wanted to hear." I silently nod my acceptance because I did that too. "But mostly I want to say I'm sorry if what I said hurt you Mykes...because I know how you feel about her."

I knew I was doing a poor impersonation of a happy person, and really I don't know why I thought my partner would fail to see right through it. "Pete how did you...?" I start but my voice trails off because I can't find that right words anymore; they died on my tongue.

Pete exhales deeply as he slows the vehicle down and then pulls over to stop on the graveled low shoulder. He puts the SUV up into park and turns in his seat to look away from me. I'm not ready for this and its surprising to me that he is, but then again underneath the childish exterior he has always had a heart of pure gold. The slight humming from the vehicles idle mingles with our silence; both fill up the cab but I just sit and wait for him to start. "I thought she would pick you Mykes, because there is nobody better than you." He says so earnestly that I feel more tears welling up in my eyes, adding to the ones that have been there all evening since I didn't say 'goodbye' to Helena. I sniffle and close my eyes to hold back the tears that are threatening to finally spill over. "You might not want to hear this now, but I always got nothing but good vibes between you two."

I can't speak, if I do I'm going to end up crying for real and I really don't want to full out cry. I'm barely hanging unto myself anyways, so I squeeze my eyes shut and inhale deeply through my nose.

"I hate that you're hurting Mykes, because its hurts me too. I mean how could she not see how you felt, because I saw it." He continues with the best of intentions, but instead of making me feel better it feels like the knife in my heart is being twisted in to cut deeper. "And I know it can't be because she doesn't like the ladies, because she did say 'many of my lovers were male'." Pete jokes in a horrible British accent, no doubt having maxed out his adult quotient earlier today.

I exhale loudly at Pete's attempt to lighten things back up, but it's far too soon for me to take any teasing jokes. And Helena's sexual orientation has nothing to do with this situation in my mind, because it boils down to the fact that it's me. "Please don't Pete...not right now, because it doesn't matter anymore what I might have felt."

"Yes it does." He counters raising his voice slightly. "I mean I loved Amanda, and I loved Kelly and I'm glad I got to have my time with them. But you, it's just not fair." I look over at Pete; his face is set in determination while his hands grip the steering wheel tightly and I just instinctually know there's more. "Myka, I heard everything and it took restraint which I normally don't have to not get out of this car and tell you both to get with the program; Helena's man friend and spawn be damned, girlfriend."

I laugh a little despite myself while still looking at Pete, who is clearly pleased with himself. "Knew that would get a response out of you." He says smiling as he pulls the vehicle back out on the highway; accelerating quickly.

What would I do without Pete? My older brother's loyalty to me is priceless and I want to cry a little bit harder because of it, but I won't and definitely not in this car tonight. "Thanks Pete." I reply with a small smile, before turning to look out the windshield at the darkness as we speed down the nondescript highway; its yellow line so faded the high beams of our rented SUV barely reflect off it.

"Anytime, Mykes...anytime."

I smile half-heartedly and tell myself that I'm going to break down and let it all out later in my room and after its done, I'm going to put my thick skin back on and then I'm going to that hope the other proverbial shoe doesn't drop.

* * *

**Soundtrack:**** "Last Goodbye" by Jeff Buckley, "You" by Candlebox, "Forever Fades Away" by Tiger Army & "I Can't Make You Love Me" by Adele **

**Parting Words:**** Normally I'm not much for heartache, but I realized when writing this pairing its downright mandatory and I hope I've done it justice thus far. Also I hope that the way this story was composed hasn't confused too many, because I just can't do what I feel is a bland and boring as fuck '2+2=4' style of storytelling, it triggers my dormant narcolepsy.**


	6. Phase Six: Waning Gibbous

A/N: Just so you know it's still Myka's POV. Also I would like to issue some serious thanks and praise to all of you following this, and to those who take the time to review, (even though I never ask you to) I do enjoy reading your thoughts.

* * *

**(~Phase Six: Waning Gibbous~)**

* * *

_The Bed & Breakfast, 2013..._

Two months since my diagnosis and it's been two months since I left Helena in Boone, Wisconsin of all places. I thought she would've gotten bored by now, but the reality of the matter is that would've happened long before I showed up. I actually wish my bitterness had more to do with her choice, but its more to the point that I don't understand her choice, because I would go insane if someone forced me to do what she has chosen to do. God, why did she have to call me? My heart was just starting to drift a bit, I've been trying to get it to, even though I know I will never love anyone else like I do her. I've known for a while now that I would just end up 'settling' for someone else, and realizing this over and over again I can't help but feel desolate. Also I feel like I've become like my middle-namesake Ophelia, I'm tragically Helena's whore; not in the sexual sense but a whore for her attention and adulation. Without her around and knowing now how she is spending her time, I fear like the character in the book, grief and madness are all I have to look forward to.

It's also two years ago today that I returned to the Warehouse for her, because she asked me to and I'm big enough to admit that to myself but not to anyone else. And at one time I believed it was because she knew or rather knows that no lengths are too great because of her place in my heart; it's always been her. Although now I imagine my affections for Helena are transparent to everyone at the Warehouse who has eyes to see; I'm not very subtle anymore, even though she's not here.

I wish my heart hadn't latched onto her, it's like I had no control in the matter. It just happened, I went to bed and then I woke up and I just knew I was in love with her. Still unbelievable to me is how I let her use me, because something from her was better than nothing.

I don't know how to move on. So many things have left me in limbo, and I just keep getting knocked down by them.

My cancer could kill me, but I'm actually going to die from a broken heart.

With a sigh almost akin to pain, I recap my pen and close it up in my journal and then place both in the bottom drawer of my desk. I don't know why I thought this was a good idea, but it does seem with every word of my feelings that I write down, I do lose some of the heavy burden on my heart. Not so long ago I would have been mortified if someone were to find my little secret, but now I'm just too tired to care. Plus we have a ping that needs tending to, if my buzzing Farnsworth is any indication.

* * *

"Mykes." I can already feel myself getting frustrated just by the sound of Pete's voice, because I know what he's about to say. "Not that I'm starting to complain or become your warden, but you don't look so hot and shouldn't you have stayed home and just waited on your test results?"

I close my eyes and shove my hands into the pockets of my favorite black trench coat. "Pete, I needed to get away for a while and I'm not exactly handicapped yet now am I?"

"No but..."

"No buts, Lattimer." I interject trying to put some good humor into my tired voice. "And I think a little easy..."

"Shhh, you can't ever say easy Mykes." Pete interrupts while squinting his entire face up.

I chuckle lightly at his facial expression; he is going to have some serious crow's feet if he keeps doing that. "As I was saying a little snag, bag and tag is just what the doctor ordered as far as I'm concerned."

"Alrighty then." Pete concedes as he claps his hands together and looks around at our surroundings. "The air even smells rich." He says while inhaling deeply.

I smirk and look around at the indeed very wealthy district of London known as Knightsbridge; its exclusive salons and fashion houses that are home to the likes of Jimmy Choo.

"I don't know Pete; I think the air just smells crisp for a late spring evening." I answer while breathing deeply; enjoying the faint smell of blossoms, and then I notice Pete watching an extremely attractive well dressed blonde woman walking towards us on the sidewalk.

"Pardon me." She says politely to us as she passes. The scent of her perfume lingers which I immediately recognize as Ralph Lauren's 'Notorious', and of course it is only sold on this very street in Harrods.

I briefly appraise the woman; her slim yet undeniable feminine curves accentuated by the Stella McCartney fitted color block dress, and with the assistance of a pair of four inch black Manolo Blahnick stiletto's, which easily makes her almost two full inches taller than me. And as if feeling Pete's bulging eyes or maybe mine on her as well, she turns back to glance at us and smiles.

Pete surges forward but I catch his arm. "Easy there sailor, you might want to remember you're not in the Navy and this is not the time for your shore leave." I say through clenched teeth while letting go of his arm, and feigning a smile since the woman stopped to look back at us. Clearly enjoying the show, I watch her chuckle and then resume walking rather provocatively down the sidewalk.

"Oh my God, this sailor is beyond wanting to plunder her booty." Pete says under his breath and I promptly punch him in the arm.

"Ouch, Mykes."

"Oh right, like that hurt?" I tease as Pete rubs his bicep, while making a pained expression the whole time.

"Wonder how much it costs to live here?" Pete asks with his eyes still transfixed on the woman's retreating behind.

I clear my throat loudly, hoping for him to take the hint and unglue his eyes already. "Well, a parking space alone sells for three hundred thousand pounds on a required ninety-four year lease."

"Shit!" Pete exclaims a little too loud and I smack his arm again. "Or maybe I could just snag that hottie and she could be my sugar mamma, since this daddy don't got that kind of scratch?"

I can't keep from laughing at Pete's comment. Also admittedly I continue to watch the woman but not for the same reason as my partner, until she steps into one of those expensive salons we passed a few doors down, effectively disappearing from our sight.

"I think we've done enough sight-seeing," I say sardonically turning my gaze towards Pete. "So how about we formulate a plan to snag the artifact?"

He attempts a thoughtful smile but it falls short. "Sounds very covert...in a nerdy way."

I sigh and decide to move on to the task at hand while I have most of Pete's attention. "Bonham's auction house is where we're going tonight after closing, for those of us who never read the file."

Pete scoffs, "I skim it...sometimes."

With a smirk, I cross my arms over my chest and wait for him to process. Pete fiddles with his own black trench coat, and oddly I find myself also waiting for him to ask me if Helena Bonham Carter owns the place.

"So we're going to steal from an auction house?" I nod my head in the affirmative and wait for the next obvious question from Pete. "I mean why not just bid on it?"

"Because the Warehouse doesn't have that kind of scratch either." I retort, inherently pleased with my attempt at humor.

Pete smirks back at me, as he places his hands on his hips. "Not bad Mykes, not bad." Then just as I'm about to say more Pete continues. "Wait, is this gonna be like that time we snatched that Marie chick's guillotine a few years back?"

"Hopefully not." I reply thinking back to those guards I had to subdue the old fashioned way, and I know full well I'm not up for that this time around. "But at least this time I won't have to worry about not fully charged Tesla's or overly eager security."

Pete frowns a little but then laughs, "I'm sure the guards will mind their own business while we swap out the genuine article for a fake; we have a fake right?"

I glare at him and then look around at where we are; if only the people around us knew what kind of work we do, but the masses are oblivious even on a crowded London street in an upscale part of town. "Yeah Pete, I have the fake and the auction house has a security system, not guards."

Pete grips my shoulders, "Good to know Mykes, what would I do if you didn't read the file for me?" I frown a little at his attempt at guilt. "Anyways...do lead the way old chum, onward to Bonham's post haste and no dawdling." He says effectively doing his terrible impersonation of a British accent.

* * *

The Warehouse's decryptor makes short work of Bonham's security system, so Pete and I can make our way through its stores undetected. Using one of Claudia's small repurposed tablets, I pull up the floor plan of the building and we quietly move through the main floor towards storage were tomorrows auction pieces are being kept.

"So yet another Hitchcock artifact for us?"

"Yep." I answer absently while zooming in on the tablets screen, to get a closer look at the lower levels listed on the floor plan.

"I still say the dude needs his own aisle already." Pete says drawing my attention away from the screen. "Care to share what it is, because I still didn't get around to checking that pesky file."

"Carlotta's necklace from Vertigo." I answer blandly, while flipping through the tablet's files to retrieve the layout of the storage space in Bonham's.

"You shouldn't keep souvenirs of a killing." Pete says lowly in the quiet dimness of the vacant auction house. I don't laugh but I get the joke, I really do and besides he usually laughs enough at his jokes for the both of us and this time is no exception.

"Pete!" I shout whisper at him.

"Aww come on it's a quote from the movie Mykes...you know Vertigo?"

I hear Pete sigh in frustration at what he still perceives as my apparent lack of getting his humor, but I have seen Vertigo several times. It's just that I want to focus on the mission this time, and less on the fruitless endeavor of preventing him from goofing off too much. At least after the Telegraph whammy he isn't quite so tactile, but I still wouldn't be the least bit surprised if he licked an artifact one of these days.

My trench coat suddenly seems stifling, but lately I haven't been feeling a hundred percent and I will deal with that in due time. Using the decryptor once more, Pete deactivates the security locks for the door to the storage. I wipe the slight accumulated sweat off my forehead quickly before Pete notices and I follow behind him into the storage room. I hit the lights beside the doorway and the florescent lighting kicks on without pause.

"Easy as my prom date in the eleventh grade." Pete says smiling.

I so could be offended by that, but I already know that pretty much everything that tumbles out of his mouth in my presence is meant to make me laugh, or annoy me into it.

"Classy." I retort while walking past him, as I use Claudia's tablets to access Bonham's storage inventory to find our target that much faster. She really is a world class hacker in a league of her own making; great at repurposing things too.

"Man this place reminds me of the Warehouse a bit, but only because of the shelves of random crap." Pete says and I look up from the screen; having found the necklace and where we need to be.

"Expensive crap." I add with a smile while I power down the tablet. "It's six aisles back and on the third shelf from the bottom Pete."

"Righty ho, this way we go?" He gestures as if he were holding an imaginary door open for me. I roll my eyes at him and consider punching him again, but I don't feel like it right now.

It takes about five minutes to walk those six rows, and I wonder if anything else this place has could be an artifact and if one day we might be back to snag something else here. I stop in front of the necklace as Pete ambles on past it, I swear his attention can really only be held by food or women's body parts.

"Pete, its back here."

He smiles and casually walks back toward me, while reaching into his inner jacket pocket. "So what does this necklace do anyways that's so dangerous; it just looks pretty to me." Pete says snapping on his purple gloves.

"It makes anyone who touches it, or wears it for that matter commit suicide within twenty four hours." I reply seriously, as I reach into the inner pocket of my trench coat and pull out a set of gloves too.

Pete frowns and nods his head, "That dude really knew how to make artifacts huh? They all sound so fun in that extra special Hitchcocky-I'm-about-to-catch-a-case-of-sudden-death kind of way."

I smirk and carefully remove the replica necklace from the purple velvet satchel in my other inner pocket to replace the real one on the shelf.

"Nurse…static bag." Pete asks smiling, I roll my eyes and pull out a static bag too and hold it open.

* * *

"Do you think H.G. ever misses merry old England?" Pete teases, before shaking the nonexistent remains of his bag of peanuts in his wide open mouth.

"I don't know, and can we please not talk about her for the rest of the flight?" I ask somewhat nicely while he's still busy chewing the peanut dust that fell out, even though the tone of my voice would indicate otherwise.

Pete looks at me strangely, but for once he doesn't try to talk around his food. At least minute passes before I just look away, because I suddenly got a vibe that my partner and best friend just saw right through me a second time in so many months. In my defense though, my tiredness has made me less than aware of being more careful with my words, or as Claudia would say: 'My filter is corrupted.' I shift in my seat and I feel Pete's eyes on me and I know he's trying to decide what he wants to say to me, and it seems since I told him about my cancer he has been more open with his emotions as well.

"Mykes you don't have to look at me, in fact it's easier if you don't but you do know you need to accept that H.G.'s never coming back." Pete says sincerely and I flinch regardless while staring out the darkened window of the airplane. But neither the distraction or the tender tone of his voice doesn't lessen the blow that those words have inflicted. I watch as some clouds pass under the wing, illuminated by the moon and then I see Pete's reflection; he's looking right at me. "But I still wish like hell H.G. could see what she's passing on." Pete says with a sigh and casts his eyes downward. "But I also think she doesn't deserve what you have to offer anymore Myka."

And as Pete almost whispers those last words the tears begin to sting in my eyes. I turn around in my seat to face him, even though I know getting this emotional makes him uncomfortable, but I let the tears go anyway and slump down in my seat. "Pete...I...I know I need to move on and believe me I'm trying, but with everything else on top of it." I flounder for a second as my throat constricts. "I had hoped you wouldn't notice or at least not mention it anymore."

Pete shakes his head and grips both armrests briefly. "You're my partner Mykes and how could I not notice how you felt about H.G.? I mean you both weren't very subtle; you flirted over a tracking device thingy for christsakes."

I laugh lightly even through my sniffles. "Yes we did." And as the truth in that small confession washes over, I suddenly can't help but be taken back to that moment. The way her voice so warmly regarded my cleverness, and how my fingertips faintly grazed her hand as I dropped the transmitter into her palm. Mostly I recall how I wanted her to stay, at any cost I would pay in the future and I did in fact pay. Looking back, I know that was when I realized how bad I had it for her, as Pete would say.

"This torch you're still carrying for H.G. isn't healthy Myka." Pete's voice snaps me back to the conversation. "And with your diagnosis you need to..."

"Damn it Pete!" I interrupt somewhat loudly, but I do manage to reign in some of my irritation since were on a commercial airplane and I don't want what few passengers there are on this flight to overhear everything. "I told you I'll start the treatments when I'm good and ready."

"I know that and I'm not pushing you, I swear." Pete laughs nervously, but I see tears forming in his warm brown eyes. "Unlike Helena though, I couldn't stand losing you and I don't even think of you that way; you're my best friend and my family Mykes and I won't let go of that...I can't."

I reach for Pete and pull him into a tight hug, which doesn't happen often but now is the right time. "You're my family too." I say while tasting my tears that have run down to touch my lips. "But do you think maybe you and Steve can take the next ping or two?" I ask teasingly to lighten the mood.

Pete chuckles before moving out of our embrace. "Sure, I don't think Artie will gruff about it too much, but Claude might when I take her brother from another mother away."

I laugh lightly, even as the tears gently roll down my face. "Just tell her I need her, because I really do now." I reply wiping my cheeks off with both hands.

"Whatever you need Mykes, and whoever you need." Pete says solemnly and I feel my heart fill with hope, if only for his sake not my own.

* * *

**Soundtrack:**** "My Curse" by Killswitch Engage, "London Calling" by The Clash, "Bloke" by Republica & "Always" by Killswitch Engage**

**Parting Words:**** The beginning marks the last journal entries of Myka's you will read, anymore I feel would be excessive. Now dry your eyes if they're a bit misty, but only because you have something in them, right? (Just so you know I cried a smidgen while writing the end of this bit.) And I hope Myka doting on fashion and perfume didn't throw too many peeps, because on the show she always cleans up nice and I assumed it's because she knows a few things along with being very observant.**


	7. Phase Seven: Three Fourths Moon

A/N: This had to be done, and just so you know this is the chapter that deals with the big 'C' and features the little-big 'C'.

* * *

**(~Phase Seven: 3/4 Moon~)**

* * *

I don't bother with worrying about what time it is anymore, or what month it is for that matter, because every day feels like it's taking forever. And if I live beyond this agony I'm going to live how I want this time, even without Helena, because I've waited and pined away for someone who doesn't want me for long enough. It's not anymore healthy than the cancer that's trying to kill me, and neither one is a merciful death. She moved on and seeing it ripped a hole in me, so logically I need to move on too if I survive and if I don't at least I'll be free. It's been seven months since Pete and I pulled out of that driveway; I mean who could have possibly imagined that H.G. Wells herself realized idea of a modern utopia would look so mediocre? At least if I die I won't be tempted to bother her anymore. I want to stop thinking about her, I mean it's not that the memories are happy or that they lessen my physical pain.

A warm squeeze on my right hand forces me out of my head. "Did you hear me? Myka please talk to me; just tell me you're alright even if it's a total fracking lie." Claudia says tearily and I turn my head and smile weakly at my other little sister, although she has an older sister for real now-Claire.

She has changed so much since the Paracelsus incident, and I hate that I wasn't there for it. But the change hasn't been completely for the worse, that humor of hers I don't think can ever be dimmed and for that I'm grateful. "I'm good Claude considering things, and I actually think using a bedpan is kinda fun."

She chuckles half-heartedly and wipes the tears off her cheeks with her free hand. "That's not even funny Myka."

I rest my eyes for a moment and squeeze her hand back. "Comedy isn't my thing, you're the expert and well Pete just tries too hard most of the time."

Claudia laughs and I watch as more tears gather in her eyes. "Just so you know you don't get to check out on me either, I brought Steve back and..." A small sob falls out of her and my heart just hurts. "You can beat this Myka, and I'm here to help for when you get in your head like you might not."

I smile even as a sharp pain hits me in my lower abdomen, and seeing my distress Claudia let's go of my hand and grabs the morphine trigger from where she apparently moved it from my hand to lie on the bedspread. A soothing coolness slithers through my veins to dull the aches in a manner of seconds; my body relaxes and then it feels like I'm slipping into a warm inviting bath.

"Thanks Claude." I whisper as the morphine lulls me back into oblivion.

* * *

"Do you still miss H.G.?" Claudia asks and I don't fail to notice how careful her voice sounds. I guess it was all obvious to everyone, but truthfully the thought never bothered me. "Because I miss H.G., you know I always thought she was pretty cool for an old Victorian lady...and she saved my life."

I don't have any words to describe how thankful I am that Helena was around to save Claudia back then in California, because I don't think I could have. "Sometimes I miss her, but not like I used to." I reply smiling as I lean back into the wicker chair.

"So you're not in love with her anymore?" Again Claudia's voice is careful, but direct as always.

I don't think there's any point in lying or deflecting at this point. "I'm trying not to be." I state simply before taking a sip of my peppermint tea, which always helps to settle my stomach. But it hasn't really been able to settle much after my latest round of chemo, and my hair has already started to fall out even though I've just barely started my treatments.

"Why?" Claudia asks as if it was the simplest question in the world for me to answer. So I set my tea down and look directly at her across the small table, trying to silently convey how complicated the answer truly is. "Myka I mean...okay yeah I get it, you have other things on your mind now and H.G.'s off playing Betty Sue Crocker lost in suburb-blandia, but I just don't get it what's so hard about it all?"

Funny how other people looking at my situation on the outside see it all as easy, but from the inside looking out, it was never anything to me but many subtle layers of complicated. I pull my small and worn blanket closer around me against the cool autumn air now stirring around the porch we're sitting on out behind the B&B. "Helena..." I sigh, not really knowing where to start and not really knowing how much I want to talk about this, so I condense everything. "She doesn't love me back." It stings to admit that out loud for the first time to someone other than myself and only then in my thoughts. "But she loved Christina which is the only reason I can find for her attachment to the little girl Adelaide, she wants to be there for her because she reminds her of Christina. And there is nothing between H.G. and the girl's father Nate, I mean I looked and I couldn't see anything." I leave out the part where I say I know she's sleeping with him, because no man; I don't care how 'normal and decent' they are, will just up and let a woman live with them unless she's putting out.

"That's fucked up Myka."

"What?" My voice creeps up higher at the accusation, and for a second I fear I might have said some of my thoughts outside of my head.

"No, no, no...not you." Claudia verbally backpedals, while gesturing wildly. "I mean H.G. Seriously, why couldn't she just stay here and work at the Warehouse and then just adopt a kid if she wanted one so badly like a normal person? I'm sure the Regents would've helped if she'd asked."

"She said she wanted a life far away from the Warehouse." I answer automatically, repeating Helena's words that absolutely still stings even after all this time. I can't believe it's almost been eleven months since the last time I saw her in Boone.

Claudia narrows her eyes and shakes her head. "Give up endless wonder for what, a normal life? Even normal people don't want their lives, it's just the only option that most have; I still don't get it Myka."

"Me either." I answer while turning my head to look toward the red tinged horizon as the sun disappears, and at the same time wishing that this conversation about Helena would hurry up and end.

"And yet you're still in love with her."

Claudia's statement of fact forces my attention off the fading view, and I look directly at her. "Yes, but when the time comes I'm moving on." I answer honestly just as my cell phone begins to ring on the table. Moving my hands out from under the warm embrace of my blanket I pick it up, and glancing at the screen I see it's an unknown number but I answer it anyway, and of course Helena's voice is what was waiting for me. Her accented timbre washes over me in its usual pleasant familiarity, but I can't seem to end the phone call fast enough and strangely I'm glad that Claudia is sitting near me. Finally I do end the call and throw my cell phone down on the table; it skids along the surface until Claudia stops it with her hand. I pull my hands back into my blanket and draw it tighter around me; I'm so tired of feeling like this.

"Talk to me Myka, why did you tell her 'no' besides the obvious reason of you not being a hundred percent now." Claudia asks pleadingly, and I can't bring myself to look at her. "I mean does H.G. even know?"

But I do notice that my peppermint tea is gone, and I suddenly feel completely exhausted from all the emotions at just hearing her voice stirred up. "Helena doesn't know and I don't want her to." I reply with finality, making myself look up and then recognizing Claudia's expression of an incoming protest I continue. "I have you, Pete, Artie, Steve and my other family and that's all I need right now, it's all I can take."

Claudia smiles sadly and her eyes gloss over with tears, as she reaches across the table. I draw my right arm out from the warmth and reach for her out stretched hand. "Okay," She says squeezing my hand in hers. "Everything's going to be okay Myka."

* * *

Finding peace in my dreams has been hard to come by lately and I know they are just dreams, because reality would never be so kind. I wish I could blame the medication and the poisons in my body, but I don't have the luxury of using that as a crutch anymore and I'm happy about that at least. But Helena and that one damn phone call in so many months for coffee. I changed my number though a few days later so she wouldn't be able to call me again without getting creative. I meant what I told Claudia those months ago about Helena and it's even more true now that I'm cancer free, and to be that kind of free cost me one ovary and my uterus. I exhale loudly and turn over in my bed, which is offering no comfortable position tonight and run my hands through my short hair. I want it long again, because I feel like a man with boobs, but when I step out of the B&B I put on the only wig I own. Claudia purchased it for me when we received the good news about my remission. At first I didn't know what to make of it, but then I embraced it with encouragement from my family, both of my families that is.

"Myka, there is something important I would like to ask you to do for me." Helena's lovely voice to me is like bathing in warmth that would shame the sun, and without question or hesitation I tell her I'll do anything.

"Myka will you please stop loving me, because I don't love you in a romantic way. I never have and yet I do apologize for any misunderstandings between us, because I fear I'm just naturally a bit of a flirt."

"How can you say that to me after all these years Helena?" I ask brokenly while anxiously wringing my hands together. "I thought you, I mean I always felt we had this connection..."

"Quite easily Myka." Helena interrupts. "Because I'm afraid it's the truth, and the truth shall set you free from lies that you've come to believe."

I wake up and I immediately feel the tears drying on my cheeks. I close my eyes and clench my hands into fists so tight I hear the bones pop. 'Love isn't worth this kind of misery.' I say quietly in the darkness of my bedroom. Because I've come to the conclusion that love is actually worse than cancer, because it spreads into places that no amount of time can ever heal; like a permanent infection or virus that doesn't have the good graces to be subtle and to know when enough is enough. I continue repeating that mantra in my thoughts as a prayer, and as a silent will to make myself fall back into a dreamless sleep this time.

* * *

Claudia and I make our way past the doorman and down a black-lighted passageway into a German themed goth club, 'Die Mitternacht Fetisch', which means The Midnight Fetish and strangely I feel a little at home here in my current mood. Pete hasn't really come around since I got better, our friendship has changed, but then again it had to because I'm not exactly the same person as I was before. How can I be? We still laugh and I still punch him when he says something stupid, but there is a maturity to him now that wasn't there before and well I suppose I'm just a touch angrier than I used to be. I feel good though, after my last round of chemo as a precaution to some of my cancer being aggressive, but the majority of it turning up benign. Also, to be able to eat normally for me and have it stay down for the first time in many months feels like a reward in itself. My strength is almost back to a hundred percent and I actually have enough hair on my head to pull back into a very short and frizzy 'pony nub' as Claudia calls it. But I still wear my wig outside of the comfort of the B&B. It was Claude's suggestion tonight to make me feel less self-conscious, and I really like the fact that it makes me feel like a different person with it on, and frankly its more manageable than my own real hair.

Claudia has her Farnsworth open having a verbal spar with Artie as per usual. "Yes, well granddad my slogan for tonight is: Gothlings run in fear, cause the Donovan is here." I can't help but chuckle at Claudia and then she predictably snaps the Farnsworth closed before Artie can get the last word. "Myka, I'm going to talk to the club owner." She says loudly while leaning up to me and I acknowledge her with a smile. I'm so proud of the agent she has become and I remember fondly how our first assignment all those years ago played out. I could have teased her so badly about her being clearly uncomfortable in that locker room with those naked young men everywhere but I didn't, and I never told Pete about it either and I never will.

"Sure thing Claude, I'll just make my rounds around the club." I reply loudly over the pulsating music. I don't mind the restrictions of limited duty, or Claude taking the lead, it's just fun for me to be back in the field and a simple snag and bag is just right for getting back on the horse, as the saying goes.

I pull my black trench coat tighter around me, and walk through the gathered crowd just off the dance floor. So many flavors of bad perfume and equally smelly cologne have mingled with the sweat in the air to produce a scent that makes me nauseous quickly. I take a deep breath and hold it as I make my way to the women's bathroom as quick as I can without knocking into other people's elbows too much.

I burst through the door and it bangs on the wall from the force, thankfully it looks empty and surprisingly cleaner than I would have imagined. But I would hardly call phone numbers scratched on the wall with a sharpie pen and the crude drawings of genitals immaculate, though at least I should be thankful that it doesn't smell like an open septic tank.

I step over to the sink and turn the cold water on, it sputters. Briefly I appraise the reflection presented to me; I still look too pale, but the warm brown coloring of the wig with its auburn highlights and its long straight length manage to make me look like anything but sickly. I lean over and run both of my hands under the steady stream for a few seconds allowing them to soak up the coolness, before I press them to my face.

"Are you alright honey?" A female voice laced with a slightly odd accent asks me. I move my hands off my face and I see her just off to the right; apparently she was in one of the bathrooms stalls.

"I'm fine." I answer evenly as I reach for a paper towel from the now obviously empty dispenser to dry my hands on, and in frustration I just wipe my hands on the legs of my pants.

Looking up I finally notice the woman standing there; who is clearly amused by me, and she is also not surprisingly clothed in black from head to toe. My eyes roam over her ensemble of black high heels up toned legs that are covered in sinfully tight leather pants, and a corset style top complete with laces. And then I notice her eyes; not unlike my own, but brought even more alive and enhanced by artfully applied eyeliner.

"You don't look fine, but you definitely are...fine." She drawls out as her eyes wander over my frame.

I feel myself blush and I look down. "Thank you, I think." I reply shyly, and I really want to smack myself now. Because if a man had said that to me I would have seriously considered hitting him by now, but oddly coming from this woman it rings differently and I don't know why. So she moves closer to me at the sink basins and for the life of me I have no idea why on earth I'm still lingering in this grungy bathroom, except to talk with her some more?

And then I notice her long straight black hair next, as she leans down to get some soap from the full dispenser to wash her hands with. "I guess I'll have to dry my hands on my pants too." She says while turning on the faucet, which sputters for a second before its stream steadies.

"So what exactly are you doing in this shit hole club and equally shit hole bathroom tonight?"

Her amused voice unsettles me for a moment. "Just out with a friend." I answer simply, while watching the woman try to rub her hands dry against her leather clad thighs.

"Well, I can tell you're far too classy to actually want to come here for kicks." She says while moving marginally closer to me. "But it's not really any of my business, so I won't try to pry any more info out of you."

I can't help but laugh a little at my current situation, which of course prompts a laugh from my companion. I watch as she moves even closer to me and I feel absolutely no compulsion to stop her; funny how almost dying lowers a person inhibitions.

"You look almost as sad as you are beautiful." She says affectionately, as she closes the distance between us and I can smell the faint traces of alcohol on her breath. "I promise I won't hurt you and if you let me," I feel her hands move under my coat. "Maybe I can make you forget what's making you sad if only for a little while."

Why I'm just letting a complete stranger talk me up and touch me is beyond my reasoning capabilities right now, and for the first time I don't care. So I close my eyes at the feeling of her body pressing into mine; her warmth touching something in me that has grown cold, and then I feel her lips sliding against mine. It's been such a long time since I've kissed anyone, and to think I was saving it all for her; denying myself the simplest of things, and for what? I waited for someone who was never going to show up, I made myself available to someone who didn't want me; Helena, and just like that the thought of her name alone makes me want to stop. What the fuck am I doing anyway? And with that thought I finally pull away from the stranger's skilled, sweet and rum flavored mouth.

"I'm sorry but I can't do this." I say while adjusting my coat which is askew. "I left my friend out there and I really need to go find her."

The woman licks her lower lip and smiles. "Alright, no pressure...and after all I'm really not the type of girl to force myself on anyone."

I tilt my head and look at her skeptically, which makes her laugh in return. "Well, I didn't exactly do anything to you that you clearly didn't want." She teases leaning in so her hands can play with the collar of my trench coat. "And I can offer you so much more, if that's something you decide you want the next time I see you and I would like to see you again."

I smirk and lower my eyes, noticing the dingy floor beneath my feet that looks like it hasn't seen a mop recently. "I don't even know your name." I say looking back up at her.

"My friends call me Stella." She answers without missing a beat; her hands finally dropping away from my coat. "And you are?"

"Myka." I reply with a smile, because I feel I owe her my name since we did just kiss not five minutes ago.

Stella smiles and turns towards the bathroom door. "Well hopefully I'll see you around, Myka."

I watch her exit with amusement for three reasons alone. One, I had no idea any woman would ever be attracted to me. Two, I won't be seeing her again but she didn't need to know that. And three, I've still got a job to do...for now.

* * *

**Soundtrack:**** "Cancer" by My Chemical Romance, "Goldilox" by King's X, "Vermillion Pt. 2" by Slipknot & "The Undertaker" by Puscifer**

**Parting Words:**** This chapter covered a lot of time and was largely an internal narrative, and no matter what I'm pleased with what I managed on an emotional level. Btw, Myka just up and making out with that woman was inspired by her just up and kissing that hockey dude on the show and we already saw that muckedy-muck...also grief in all forms can make people do some crazy shit. (I know from personal experience.)**


	8. Phase Eight: Waning Crescent

A/N: And this is the almost big finish; literally a LONG chapter, but there will also be an epilogue forthcoming for those of you that give a fudge. Still Myka's POV and enjoy it or not, it's totally up to you.

* * *

**(~Phase Eight: Waning Crescent~)**

* * *

I can always find peace in a good book, even on days like today. It's a lazy warm sunny day in the middle of nowhere South Dakota, but I feel far from sunny on the inside. My body is finally at the energy levels I had before my cancer, but my mind is still just flat-out tired, so much so I chose to stay home today since it's my day off. Pete and Steve are out on a mission that popped up, Claudia is meeting with the Regents and well Artie is at his second home-the Warehouse. A yawn forces its way out of me and facing the fact that I will not be able to enjoy my book the way I normally would, I mark my place and lay it down on my lap. I sigh and stretch my legs out on the sofa and rest my eyes. The inn is extremely sedate but I like that, the only disruptions to its languid state are pleasant; an occasional birdsong carrying, or the house's foundations providing a sparse groan or creak.

The B&B is still the same, but not, the comfort and welcoming warmth that accompanied Leena is gone. I miss her every day and I know it will be a sad day for me when I don't, but I don't ever see that happening as long as I'm alive. Abigail has been very helpful during my recovery and everyone's for that matter, so much has happened to us all in such a short time and reliving any of it in my mind even for a few seconds makes me feel years older than I am. And as hollow as I feel most of the time, I'm beginning to heal and I don't mean from my illness; my other malady-Helena. A shiver runs over me even in the warm room, so I slink down into the sofa more. Comfort achieved I reach for my book on my lap to give it another try, and then just as I'm about to open my book back up, I hear a soft knock at the front door. I get up off the sofa and gingerly lay my book down on the coffee table; then adjusting my shirt while making my way down the hallway toward the front door.

The knock persists and I open the door once they've stopped, and the sight waiting on the other side warms my heart. "Hello."

"Hi, I'm Ashley." Says the cutest little blonde eleven-year-old girl I've ever seen. "I'm with the Girl Scouts and I have Mr. Lattimer's cookie order."

I smile and open the door wider, "Well he isn't here right now but I'll pay for them."

"Okay." She replies as she looks over the list attached to a green acrylic clipboard in her hands. "Three boxes of Thin Mints, two boxes of Chocolate Chip Shortbread, two boxes of Peanut Butter Patties and one box of Thank You Berry Munch." I laugh lightly at the girl's rather adult tone, and she simply looks up from her clipboard at me disinterestedly. "Which is eight boxes total, and the order amount comes to thirty-two dollars even."

I smile and then I notice among the girls numerous badges; her Cookie Connection and Money Sense badge front and center on her sash, and I instantly know why Pete purchased so many cookies, other than the fact he will eat each and every one of them on his own. Smiling politely I reach into my pants pocket and pull out all the cash I have on me. I was planning on going out in a while to get some take-out, but that's out of the question now; Pete is so paying me back. I straighten out my folded money, all forty dollars of it and count out thirty-two.

Ashley takes it from me and puts it into a dark green zip pouch that looks like the type most businesses use to take money deposits to the bank. "Mom bring the cookies, the lady here paid!" I jump as I look in the direction that Ashley shouted in, and then I notice an over-stuffed minivan pulling a U-Haul. Then I abruptly hear a muffled sound coming from the U-Haul and then I see a tall woman; about my height, emerge carrying Pete's many boxes of cookies in her arms. Unfortunately the boxes are stacked so that I can't see her face, just the blonde top of her head.

"Ashley you don't have to shout, I'm not deaf you know." A tired, yet pleasant sounding voice says. My eyes wander up from black heels hidden under flared dark wash jeans that encase long legs and lead up to shapely hips-the rest is obscured by a stack of boxes. I feel a blush rise up in my cheeks because I just realized that I'm checking her out. I swear I'm getting as bad as Pete; only now its women that are getting my attention too not just men.

Nervously I move out of the doorway, just past Ashley closer to the woman carefully moving up the walkway. "Here I'll take those, I think you've carried them far enough." I say as I take the stacked boxes from her. My hands accidentally graze hers and I can't help but enjoy the faint warmth that transfers at the contact.

With the boxes in hand I turn and walk blindly back towards the doorway. Once I see the welcome mat under my feet I turn to the right, and in a few steps I set Pete's cookies down on the wingback chair by the entrance. Quickly I turn back around to the two people waiting in the doorway, and unexpectedly I feel a little self-conscious. The girl's mother is beautiful and the crème white button-up shirt she is wearing accentuates all of her curves. I straighten my rather plain V-neck t-shirt, but at least its blue and I think I look good in blue. My hair is almost shoulder length now, but I still think I'm too pale and every time I look in a mirror I wonder if I'll ever have any lasting color in my cheeks again.

"Hi, I'm Myka." I say extending my hand to the woman. I don't care anymore what people think of me; life is too short or in my case too long, and it's been a long time since I felt anything good. And I feel good today, better by the second really.

She takes my hand; her hand is so warm and soft in mine. "Maxine, but everyone just calls me Max."

I shake her hand as my eyes take in her lovely and pleasant face; her large amber-brown eyes almost sparkle. Her long dark blonde hair is well past her shoulders and is cut to frame her oval face. She looks like she's my age, maybe a year younger, and then as if just realizing what I'm doing I finally release her hand. "Nice to meet you Max."

"Mom, I'm going to the car I'm tired and this is our last stop." Ashley says sounding rather flippant to my ears. "So I'll just be there waiting until you're done flirting her." The subtle moment effectively shoved into the limelight, I can't help but smile broadly at Maxine. Ashley just rolls her eyes at us and pulls out her cell phone, "Nice to meet you Myka and tell Mr. Lattimer I'll be selling cookies for the next two weeks." She says over her shoulder as she moves down the walkway back towards their mini-van.

"I swear she's eleven going on twenty-three." Maxine says as her cheeks color with a light blush. I laugh lightly and resist the urge to play with my hair.

"So are you Pete's girlfriend?" She asks clearly changing the subject somewhat, but she is obviously still interested and her daughter embarrassing her had no effect.

"No, God no." I answer dismissively. "We just work together."

"So you're an I.R.S agent too?"

I fidget in the doorway, because I have to maintain my ridiculous Warehouse produced cover, but who says I can't flirt while doing it. "Yes, but I only investigate and audit the extremely filthy rich fraudulent claims."

Maxine smiles broadly. "Well, you better audit you partner; make sure he pays you back."

"I intend too," I reply smiling. "Because I would go broke trying to feed Pete."

"Look Myka," She pauses and I can't help but think that shy smile of hers is too cute. "I haven't done this in a while, so I'm just going to ask...would you like to have my number?"

"Yes," I reply softly at the uncertainty in her voice. "And don't feel bad Max, I haven't really flirted or even went out with anyone in over a year."

"Lucky me, we're both rusty and available." She jokes, and I laugh. God, it feels good to laugh again. Pete tries, but he is still just my childishly annoying older brother more than anything else, and I still want to hit him with a chair sometimes.

Maxine gives me her cell and home phone number; I smile as I put the small piece of paper in the front pocket of my jeans. As I watch her leave; she turns around once to find me looking and she gives me the biggest smile. Then I see her daughter making a hand gesture indicating it took her long enough, and I laugh again. Ashley waves at me before the minivan and its U-Haul addition pulls away from the B&B, and it dawns on me that the kid sold so many cookies that she had to rent a U-Haul, I laugh at my delayed observation and wave back. Closing the front door, I lock it and walk down the hallway with a smile on my face.

"She was very beautiful Myka, it's rather apparent she likes you, and I cannot fault her for having excellent taste in women."

"Helena?" I say as I jump at the all too familiar voice. "What are you doing here?"

"Visiting," H.G. replies, her British accent bordering on lilting. "And taking the initiative in acquiring that promised coffee date?" I watch her lithe form stalk towards me; she's clad in her casual dress of tight dark jeans, a light blue blouse with many buttons undone and a dark brown leather jacket and of course heeled boots. God, it's like every piece was tailored for her.

I roll my eyes at how quickly my thoughts have betrayed me, and I feel my good mood start to crumble. "I see you're still breaking and entering." I reply deflecting, because I really don't give a damn about a forgotten promise anymore.

Helena chuckles, "I used to live here darling, so I don't think you can classify my actions as such."

I move past Helena in the hallway, and I catch a whiff of her perfume; still the same floral scent I smelled when I was pressed against her when she saved me with her grappling hook all those years ago. I exhale through my mouth so I don't have to smell it anymore, but I feel off-balance all of a sudden and I lean against the sideboard in the hallway; nearly knocking over the duck or more accurately the disguised alarm.

"Are you alright Myka?" I feel H.G.'s warm hand on my bare arm briefly before she moves around me.

I look right into her concerned dark eyes, "I'm fine, just a misstep." I say while gently moving my arm out of her grasp.

Helena's eyes travel all over me, and I know right then she has noticed the subtle differences in me; my illness did leave a few lingering mementos, but hopefully they will fade with more time.

"You've cut your hair."

I can't help but smile and chuckle in spite of myself. A part of me never imagined seeing Helena again, which is why I didn't tell her about it. The part that makes me laugh is the fact she just assumed my current look is for the sake of vanity.

"Something like that." I say clearing my throat. "Uh, no one's home now, which you already know...but would you like something to drink."

I don't wait for Helena's reply so I turn the corner and enter the kitchen, of course she follows. Once in the kitchen I'm instantly reminded of Leena, her presence will always linger within these walls. With a sigh I open the cupboard and get the herbal teas we have, along with two nice hummingbird print cups. Almost absently I take my time with the simple task of filling the kettle with water and patiently wait for it to boil.

"Do you need any help?" Helena's gentle question pulls me out of my daze.

I turn briefly and smile at her, "No, thank you though." I reply, as I pull out two tea bags and place them in the cups.

"Very well, I'll just wait in the dining room then shall I?" I nod at her polite suggestion and watch her walk out of the kitchen. I've always adored Helena's accent and manners, but right now I really don't understand where all this attention is coming from and why.

* * *

I take a drink of my chamomile tea and then I notice H.G. smirking at me, just before she takes a drink of her own Earl Grey that she doctored up with milk and honey.

The room is just as pleasantly serene as it was earlier, only now the sounds of the strong breeze add to the birds singing just off in the backyard; both are subtly seeping into the room from the patio doors that Helena left ajar.

"I didn't know you harbored an interest in the fairer sex Special Agent Bering?"

I almost choke on my tea at the playfulness in Helena's tone, but somehow I manage to mask that from her. So I put down my cup of tea with a steady hand, "That's really none of your business."

Helena smirks, "Just making conversation about a recent observation is all." She says as she puts her tea down as well, while making eye contact with me and it makes me feel like we're back in Yellowstone and she has a gun to my head again. "So to get the ball rolling...I would like to say that I've missed you Myka." The tenderness in her voice is disarming. "I've missed your smile, the sound of your laughter and as I recall I was rather good at making you laugh."

"What?"

Helena smiles sadly and leans forward, her elbows coming to rest on top of the table. "Myka, roughly three months after I saw you last I decided to partake in some much needed therapy for my betterment. And for eight months with the help of my doctor I was ready to admit and embrace the feelings I've always had for you, and to say I'm sorry for how poorly I treated you at every turn."

I know my mouth has to have fallen open, and I suddenly feel like someone has punched me in the gut. "Just like that, huh?" I say angrily and Helena looks stunned. "I won't be strung along again, because I already let you do that to me. And then you disappeared again; orders be damned, and then I realized later on had that damn jawbone artifact not landed on your doorstep, I would've never known where you were."

"Myka, I did call you a few months ago if you recall, and you seemed...how should I put this, unwilling to even talk to me. Then when I tried to contact you again I found that your number is no longer in service."

I shake my head at the sound of her annoyed tone; she has no right to sound like that. "I had just started, you what I was just sick Helena." I reply heatedly, almost forgetting to censor myself. "So forgive me if I wasn't awed that you finally took the time to call."

Helena sighs and leans back into her chair. "I have thoroughly earned your harsh words, but the Myka I know always offered forgiveness in ample measures."

I close my eyes and purse my lips; maybe this will go faster if I treat it like pulling off a band-aide. "Why now? Because its Wednesday and you had nothing better to do?" I retort condescendingly, opening my eyes to glare at her. "I mean why can't you let me move on, you did. And correct me if I'm wrong but you told me you wanted a life far away from everything Warehouse related." I continue and I know Helena isn't enjoying having her words thrown back at her, but I just don't give a shit. I lean back in my chair and not paying any mind to her I keep going. "Helena, I've realized that I don't need forever, there is no such thing anyway. All I really want is for someone to be nice to me for whatever time I have left; it's enough, because I can't survive another great love."

"So you intend on pursuing this Maxine woman then?" She asks sounding rather defiant. "And what do you mean by 'for whatever time I have left?"

"Does it matter?" I reply quietly. It was fun to flirt, but really it would be nice to just make a new friend, Helena doesn't need to know that fact though.

"Yes, it does." Helena replies rather loudly. "Myka, I came here to make things right, it has taken me a while, but I'm here. And I need to know that I'm not too late."

I allow my eyes to close, to relish in this moment that I wanted more than anything to happen once, but now that it has it feels empty. "I waited for you already, Helena." I say softly, not really caring if she heard me, it feels more like I'm talking to myself; finally confessing myself out loud.

"Myka..."

"No," I interrupt even though her voice suddenly sounds as tired as I feel. "I don't blame you Helena, because loving me back would've never been easy. Even in this time humanity still hasn't evolved where it's all that accepting of same-sex couples. So I don't hold it against you for wanting something easy in your life." I say locking eyes with her and I inhale deeply preparing to deliver another blow. "When I was on the edge of dying I made my peace with how I felt about you, and before that I made peace with why you didn't want me."

"What do you mean when you were dying?" Helena asks anxiously; standing up from the dining room table suddenly.

I lean forward in my chair and look directly up at her. "I survived cancer Helena. Ovarian cancer to be exact and I admit I didn't want to for a while. I mean we all die and one way is just as good as another." I say flatly, while in my head I add: 'And then I would finally be free.'

"Oh my God Myka why...why didn't you tell me?" She says as she moves around the table, coming closer to me and my eyes follow her progress.

But I almost break at the sound of Helena's voice, the hurt in it that she has no right to feel anymore. "I didn't think you would care," I say looking up at her. "I mean the last time I saw you...you were hurtful and couldn't wait to shove me out the door."

Helena squeezes her eyes shut and moves away from me a little. I turn in my chair and watch as she walks toward the living room; moving around to the sofa, her long fingers trailing along the back and arm, until she gracefully sits down in it. I sigh and stand up and move towards the living room also. As I walk around the sofa I notice Helena's somewhat slumped posture, and at her distress my heart clenches, but I quickly dismiss it.

"Myka, I fear no apology I can conjure will ever relay my genuine sorrow." Helena says lowly, as if just now sensing my presence in the room with her.

I scoff, "Wells, you have no idea of the sorrows we have endured here." She looks up at the sardonic tone of my voice. "Leena is dead. Artie shot her while he was under the influence of the Astrolabe. Pete and I had to save the world from the English sweating sickness and then this family of immortals freed a very bad and crazy man from the bronze sector, an alchemist named Paracelsus, who then took control of the Warehouse from Mrs. Frederick and then Claudia took it back from him by force." I say in one heated breath, while moving around the room, but then I stop and make myself take a deep breath after letting all that out. I glance over at Helena and I notice how her eyes are following my pacing around the living room, and at her silence I continue. "You know I didn't find out about the Warehouse caretaker dilemma until after I got out of the hospital, because Pete told me how he messed up and accidentally let Paracelsus out of the suspension chamber because he was trying to find a way to save me." I say pensively as I walk around the sofa, and sit down in a chair across from it.

"I'm so sorry to just now be hearing about Leena's passing, I didn't know." Helena says softly, as she leans forward on the sofa; her hands coming to rest on her knees. "But I did know about the sweating sickness, I felt it one day at work and I just knew you would..."

"It's my job Helena." I interrupt dismissively. Normally I would never do that, but I just don't want her here any longer than necessary. A heavy and stifling silence permeates the air for a few moments, and I know Helena is waiting for me to speak since she's clearly organizing her thoughts.

"Why are you here now?" I blurt out not really caring how terse I sound.

Helena looks directly at me, and the dark depths of her eyes threaten to pull me in. "As I said before I came here to apologize and to accept my offered post as a Regent of Warehouse Fourteen." I notice moisture collect heavily in her eyes. "But mostly I came back for you."

The finality in her voice makes my knees weak, and I'm very glad I'm already sitting down. But I won't allow myself to be sucked into this, even though it's not like I'm completely free from her yet anyway. I inhale deeply and stand up; moving across the room to stand in front of Leena's, well Abigail's now, nurtured plants that are green, flourishing and warming in the light of the late afternoon sun. I close my eyes against the warm glow on my face, as I hear her soft steps stop just behind me. "Helena, I had to swallow my dignity and pride when I realized you didn't want me. Because I know there was a time when you did, but I just wasn't ready then and when I was, well you..." I can't bring myself to finish that sentence, because it's like tearing open an old wound. "You know what, let's put all that in the past where it belongs."

"I can't Myka, I've been living in the past for too long now. Which is rather amusing to me, because back in my time I longed for a future I knew I would never live to see? And yet here I am, and all I've done with my time now is try to linger; more like haunting really, I've haven't been living at all." I listen to Helena's words as she moves even closer to me. "When you told me to make that place my home," I flinch at the sound of her voice echoing my own cowardly words from what seems like a lifetime ago. Sometimes I still can't believe I managed to tell her such an obvious lie, and it's not like I tried to hide the tears in my eyes the whole damn time. "Myka, I felt my heart twist in my chest almost violently. Did you, or rather do you not know that I wanted nothing more than for you to finally tell me with words how you feel about me?"

I honestly try to shut down my emotions, but I can feel them pushing against my will. "Helena, just stop. I can't do this anymore, my heart can't take it. I've been in love with you for so long, even now I can't remember a time when I didn't love you. But its poisoned me and left me feeling like my heart was just made to be broken. So letting go, telling you good-bye when I really didn't want to, it took everything I had left." I say angrily, turning around to face her. "I've never felt so much at once in my life, my heart broke harder for you than it did when Sam was killed. And I can admit that even he didn't make me feel the way you do, and that truth shook me to my very soul when I realized it."

"Myka please, my heart shattered that night too." She says brokenly while clutching at the necklace she always wears. "And I never kept my promise to you, because I did say goodbye only without actually saying it."

This is killing me and it's not even a quick death. "Why now?" I ask tiredly again, the exhaustion of this conversation wearing on me. "I mean a year and a half ago you told me you were happy, that you had everything you needed."

Helena moves closer to me and I fight the urge to step back. "Myka I...fucked up, to use the crassest yet accurate words possible. When Artie told Mrs. Frederick, Leena and I about the Astrolabe; how I died in another timeline, it just hit me so terribly hard. And in the same breath I knew the only reason I would've sacrificed myself, my life, would be for you." I cross my arms over my chest, trying smother out the sudden rapid thump of my heart. Helena moves to stand beside me; yet not facing me, but rather inspecting the plants behind me. "Then I was ordered to disappear with the Astrolabe, not to contact anyone, so I went looking for a distraction, a way to ease the loneliness I suddenly felt awash in." I move away from Helena slightly, because I know who she is talking about and I just can't bare it. She turns away from the plants at my movement, "And I found one or rather two persons to assuage new and old wounds." I close my eyes against the tears that are dying to pour out, much like Helena's confession. "I just...I never thought you would be interested in me Myka. You believed in me when no one else did, you were my champion and I thought how could such an undeniably pure soul ever fancy a damaged one like mine?"

"Stop it." I demand, and tears fall down my face even in my anger. "I'm no saint and do you really think that we can just forget all these years, all the hurt, and that there is some sunset for us to walk off into?" Helena looks wounded by my words, but I keep going. "Let's just say I believe what you're saying." I pause, mostly to gather the rest of my strength for this surprising showdown. "I have nothing to offer you anymore, I'm done with it all, used up. Warehouse Thirteen is closed down, and I won't be an agent of Warehouse Fourteen, but Claudia will be the most badass caretaker that building has ever seen, if you could call it a building. And I..." But my words fall silent even in my head, and I just watch as Helena gently wipes the tears from her cheeks with her one of her thumbs. And at the sight of her distress, I feel my heart urging my body to move towards her; to remove the hurt between us, but I can't-I won't.

Uncrossing my arms, I wipe angrily at the moisture under both of my eyes and walk briskly across the room. "Myka wait!"

I can barely see where I'm going for the tears burning in my eyes. I have one refuge and it's my room; among my few possessions that offer a comforting reminder of home, and the walls of my current home that I feel have absorbed so much of my life in the five and half years I've lived here.

"Myka please stop!" I hear Helena's desperate sounding plea, but I just don't give a damn, why should I? I'm sure guilt is her real motivation for wanting to square things away with me so she can move on, again. I've always been disposable to her.

Walking quickly down the hallway towards my room, I wipe under my eyes again and I stop in front of my door and yank it open, then closing and locking it behind me. I lean against the door briefly and then push off it roughly. Closing my eyes and inhaling deeply I move towards my bed; my hands resting on my hips. 'If she's trying to kill me I wish she would just stick the knife in my heart all the way in already, instead of sticking it in little by little without a care for the pain.' I say to myself lowly.

I open my eyes and exhale shakily, the quiet of my room is reassuring but then it gets interrupted by the distinct sound of my lock being picked. I turn around to face the door and sure enough I watch the knob twist and then the door itself slowly swings open.

"What the fuck, Wells!" I shout as she all but saunters into my room, closing the door behind her and engaging the lock once more.

Helena arches her eyebrows at me. "I did implore you to wait, but you disregarded my affable protests," She replies levelly, as she steps further into my room. "And I will not be ignored."

Looking around my room I suddenly feel completely defeated. So I tiredly walk backwards until the backs of my legs press against the bed, and I sit down. "Just leave me in peace H.G." I plead, my voice barely carrying across the room to her. I don't care anymore if she sees the tears still streaming down my face, and I tell myself that I don't care about the ones that I see rimmed in her dark eyes.

Helena clears her throat and straightens her already impeccable posture, and I find myself momentarily adrift in those dark intense pools. "No I won't Myka, because I refuse to let you slip through my fingers once more. And the only real fear I have left is that I won't get another chance, and I simply will not let anyone take that away from me, not even you." I close my eyes at the determination in her incredible voice, while trying not to cry harder.

As her words really register in my ruptured soul, I suddenly feel her presence looming over me, so I open my eyes. Helena is standing right in front of me, with a rather open and adoring expression on her face. And then as I silently acknowledge her, she drops down in front me and timidly places her hands over mine that are resting on my knees. "Helena what are you doing?"

"I should say it's rather obvious," The sound of her voice makes my breath catch. "But the truth is this is something I should have done quite some time ago." My heart speeds up as I feel her link our hands together, and then bringing our joined left hands up to rest over her rapidly beating heart. "Myka I...I loved you from the start, I know that now and freely admit I buried that strange and wonderful feeling many times over." I close my eyes again against the tears that are stinging in them. "Because falling in love wasn't a part of my grand design."

A sob that can't hold in any longer comes out of me, and I keep my eyes closed against it as I turn away from her.

"Please don't look away from me?" She asks barely above a whisper, and I squeeze my eyes tighter while inhaling deeply, before I open them. Helena gives me a sad smile, "I used you to get into the Warehouse, I used you over and over again to get what I wanted and I won't deny it now that I also took great satisfaction in knowing the hold I had over you." The urge to pull away from her is overwhelming, but I can still feel her heart thumping wildly under our joined hands. "I'm so sorry Myka, I really don't deserve what you have to offer and it's far greater than all I've ever given you. But I'm stubborn and selfish, and I know that you still love me, as I still love you and we are a fixed equation darling." The self-assured warmth in her voice combined with those eloquent words thunder in my ears and rattle in my chest, and I break down more.

I close my burning eyes, to block out the vision of her kneeling in front of me; so vulnerable and completely penitent. She still owns my heart and that thought makes me angry, everything has betrayed me in due time; my body and everything it houses really.

I inhale sharply before opening my eyes, "Fine, have it your way."

Dropping Helena's hand I grab her face and smash my lips against hers because I don't want tender, I want to show her how much loving her has cost me and now someone has to pay. She starts making small pleased but protesting sounds in between my harsh and demanding kisses, so I stop and pull away from her.

"Still think that love is enough?" I ask breathing hard, because my heart is hammering in my chest from the sheer insanity of this moment. "Or do you need more proof?"

"Myka, if you want to punish me go ahead." Helena replies; her voice daring me to take the next step. "I won't stop you."

I've never envisioned our first kiss or anything really, for the simple reason that it was never going to happen. But when you come to understand the extent of how little you've been made to feel by the person you love most, it turns into something else. Frankly, I don't want to touch her but she wants me to. The thought that haunts me in this moment is what happens afterwards, when the sweat dries, what's next then?

I continue to grip her face gently in my hands, "I don't want to punish you Helena. I...I don't really know what I want anymore." I confess looking into her dark eyes; they seem to reflect so much loss yet I can also see hope. "So why don't you tell me what you want from me again instead?"

Helena eyelids flutter briefly and I hear her breath shudder past her parted lips. "I want you Myka. I want this pain to go away. I want to finally feel your body against mine." She stops speaking and leans back in to kiss me, but I stop her. "But with all my heart I want you to look at me the way you used to."

Fresh tears run down my cheeks. "Loving you has been so lonely." I quietly sob out while grazing her cheekbones with my thumbs. "I just can't let all that happen now, no matter how easy my body says it would be; my heart and my head are another matter altogether." Helena's disappointment is palatable. A part of me is angry with her for thinking that I would just fall into her arms, and maybe once upon a time I would have but not now. I won't turn her away though. Not when she's finally done something half-way right; finally coming back for me, coming back to where she truly belongs. "But I don't want you to leave me again."

Helena smiles wanly and moves her hands to grasp my wrists; my hands slowly fall away from her face. "I promise to never leave again Myka and if I do I will want you with me."

It will take a lot more for me than a few right words, but I'm always going to give her another chance as long as I'm above ground. "I'll hold you to that promise, Regent Wells." I say as I link our fingers together on both of our now joined hands.

* * *

**Soundtrack:**** "Plug In Baby" by Muse, "The Pieces Don't Fit Anymore" by James Morrison, "Something I Can Never Have" by Nine Inch Nails & "In Love And Lonely" by HIM**

**Parting Words:**** To all you clever people out there who knew from the get go how long this story would be (clue: number of moon phases) a big bucket of red twizzlers await you at the store nearest you. LOL! But may I remind you that there is an epilogue on the horizon, because I thought this open ending wouldn't sit well with whoever is reading this, so I'll see you then. **


	9. Phase Nine: Epilogue

A/N: We have arrived at the official end, the whole tying up all ends (loose and prudish alike), answering all questions and all those old chestnuts. Btw, this chapter is VERY LONG and the rating on this will head on into a **Solid ****M** **a.k.a Smut Dead Ahead**-so be mindful of that. And just so you know I originally wasn't going to 'go there' but I said these phrases to myself: "Why not? Phuck it! & Let's go out with a bang, bang!" Lastly, I'm bringin' this thing home in H.G.'s POV.

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**(~Epilogue: Lightside Of The Moon~)**

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_My Home (Featherhead, South Dakota) 2015..._

I haven't had time to write as I have been; surprisingly I missed the gentle, protected purge this outlet provides and in my absence a new year has passed undocumented until now.

The last three months have been emotionally taxing and I find that patience is a virtue I have realized I'm in short supply of lately. Perhaps I expended all I possessed during my time in bronze, or more to the fact I'm anxious for my life to finally begin with Myka. I've kept in contact with Dr. Mason, or rather Oliver as he prefers I address him as such now. And as a friend he reminded me of all the ways I've hurt Myka, and to not expect too much from her all at once. I freely admit the romantic in me wanted that unconditional forgiveness yet again from her. Or perhaps more accurately I expected for her to just forget all my past transgressions, to start anew, but this is real life and our great love did not play out in that fashion. However I did move back to Featherhead, as I'm not a Warehouse agent anymore but a Regent, and as a part of our agreement Myka does live with me, but we do not share a bed. How I wish we did though, but in the small home provided to me during the transition Myka opted for the confines of its cozy guest room. I would be outright lying if I were to say such a thing didn't wound, but I have inflicted wounds much deeper and now it's time to pay the piper.

We spend our mornings together, talking as we always do to which I'm relieved because I fear for the day when there is only a tenuous silence between us. Gradually some of the warmth is coming back, but I still see a sadness in those expressive green eyes, however Myka has assured me it has very little to do on my part. Finally, one such morning just the other day she confided in me that finding her way again has been hard. Myka is no longer a Warehouse Agent, but a Secret Service Agent once more with no one to protect but her own heart, and hopefully not from me much longer. She Skype's with Pete and Claudia daily; consulting, helping however she can. Warehouse Fourteen is almost prepared, and like so many others in a clandestine family; who are expected to pull up roots at any given moment, I still have yet to name my preferred post. But at least my fellow Regents chose to let the Warehouse remain in America for another hundred years, so offers of Arizona, California, Nevada or even New Mexico; where Warehouse Fourteen will be located, has been offered to me.

Even now I wonder if Myka will move with me again. I was rather surprised when she said yes, but I had hoped for no less than that when I asked, because I am thoroughly serious on my commitment to the idea of an 'us'. And yet I need not be a therapist to know that she is still holding back from me out of residual fear, and in keeping with my inherent selfish nature I very desperately want more from our strained relationship even in these trying times. I won't push her though, because I remember all too well how she reacted when I confessed myself and then had the audacity to demand more, as if I was entitled. I acted rashly and I don't know if an excuse of having felt enough time has been wasted is credible. Still she offers me affections though, be it a simple hug or a chaste kiss, but in my heart of hearts it feels like she is making herself perform those things. Also I know without any qualms that she harbors a deep love for me, but I really did a number on her and I have to remind myself daily that miracles don't happen overnight, but they do present themselves to those who become worthy. So here I am proving my worth to the only person who means everything to me in this time.

* * *

"Helena..." Myka's melodious voice makes me smile, as I hear her draw nearer to me. Strangely I'm simply content to listen to her approaching footfalls on the hardwood flooring, as I look up from my latest confession and I'm still smiling as she stops at the threshold to my makeshift study. "What are you writing?" She inquires as I close the cover on my outlet, the little brown leather journal from my sessions with Oliver that I have almost filled.

I replace the cap on my fountain pen and place in on the desk. "Just a bit of homework darling, only now my former teacher is not privy to its contents." I reply smiling, while turning around in my ever so comfy leather office chair.

My eyes linger on Myka as she smiles shyly; I've not gotten a proper laugh out of her as of yet, but I will take the simple smiles nonetheless. As always she looks charming dressed in simple black form-fitting jeans and a lovely dark pink button up, that looks like it was tailored to hug her frame in all the right areas.

"It's great that you're still working on yourself, or perhaps the writing bug has bitten the great and unsung in her time H.G. Wells and she just won't admit it?" Myka teases and I absolutely adore it, because when I woke up this morning I told myself today was going to be a glorious day.

"Great? You flatter me, but I've always been a work in progress my dear," I reply smirking. "And I feel it would be truly sad if humans didn't continue to evolve; learning something new every day, even if it's only limited to self-knowledge and personal growth." Oliver would be proud if he could hear me now; such a great friend and a wise soul.

Myka shakes her head and chuckles and I feel my heart warm in my chest at the sound. "Wow, H.G. Wells the father of science fiction turned motivational speaker?"

Now it's my turn to laugh, "Oh shut it you." I retort as I rise from my seated position and move towards Myka, only stopping less than a half meter from her.

Myka looks intently at me and for the first time in a long time I feel the weight in it. She clears her throat but doesn't look away. "So I'm free this evening and I was wondering if you would have dinner with me?" I smile at her more, and I would be loath to be able to stop at this point. "And we don't have to go out or anything, because I'm cooking." She continues in my enraptured silence.

I reach for her fidgeting hands; stilling them in my own, and like always Myka is receptive of it. "I am available also darling and I would be regardless because that sounds too lovely an offer not to partake in."

She smirks at me and laces her fingers with mine. "You are such a charmer Helena and a serial flirt, and I see I'm going to have to keep a close eye on you tonight."

For an instant I consider not pushing my luck, but she is openly flirting with me more than she has in a very long time. "Please do Myka." I retort smirking. "I implore you to freely keep an eye on me or anything else you may desire to place on my person."

She blushes at my words and it feels like the greatest small victory I've ever won.

* * *

Myka's cooking skills far exceed my own, which she certainly didn't have to acquire from a cooking class, but from her mother and just her natural curiosity to experiment with recipes. Duly noted with great success in my opinion, because after being treated to the most delectable lemon garlic tilapia teamed with a mushroom risotto, topped with asiago cheese shavings and a side of sliced zucchini, yellow peppers and broccoli flowerets all steamed to perfection. I savored every morsel along with the company. Now I'm almost loathe to disrupt the pleasant atmosphere with pointed conversation, but Oliver's last piece of sage advice to me when we spoke last on the telephone was to open a dialogue with Myka, and no matter how brutal it may seem to get, I'm to stay the course.

I place my goblet of wine on the table that I've been nursing as Myka remerges from the kitchen with dessert. "Are you certain you don't require any assistance?"

"As I said before Wells, I can manage." Myka teases while setting down the plate which has a sinfully delicious looking cheesecake with proper blueberry toppings lying in wait.

"You've spoiled me tonight my dear." I state with affection which will hopefully aide in softening my next words. "But Myka I feel like we need to address what remains as an ongoing issue between us."

She flinches, but sits back down directly across from me at our small table. "I know and we have talked Helena."

"Yes, but you continue to hold me at arm's length." I feel exasperated by having to even continue with what I'm about to say but. "And I was just wondering what more must I do to atone, to make myself desirable to you as I once was?"

In my eagerness my words are clumsy and the cheesecake is forgotten. Myka remains silent and merely pushes her empty plate away and wipes her mouth on the linen napkin. "You don't have to do anything more Helena. I needed time and these last few months have been nice...I can't forget so easily, but I've already forgiven you." I start to speak but then I notice Myka appears to be merely looking for the right words. "I kept a journal too Helena; it was how I was able to forgive you, because this time it wasn't easy, not that any other time was any easier."

I feel my heart ache and once again I'm reminded of how thoughtless, callous and selfish I really am and sadly after one hundred and forty-nine years it would seem that is unlikely to change. Look at what I'm doing, pushing for intimacies because I want her next to me in bed-in all forms.

"Helena," Myka's gentle voice stirs me out of my musing. "This still hardly seems real to me; you wanting me, but I'm accepting it with each day and night that passes because I never was able to stop loving you, no matter how hard I tried."

My heart hurts at the admission but then I feel her hands upon mine and I look up and in this moment it smarts a little less looking into those luminous green eyes, which makes it easy for me to forget so many things sometimes. "Then will you sleep with me tonight?" I blurt out somewhat timidly and she looks almost affronted, however I also see something else there that suggests more too. "Myka please, I expect nothing but to simply be close to you."

* * *

My bedroom is painted in the full moons glow, its silvery shimmering light streams in from the windows, but despite the coolness the room feels charged by the lunar light. To me it feels like a spell has been cast, or perhaps this is what it feels like when your most desperate prayer is about to be answered. I've spent a good deal of time watching the moon pass through its phases on clear nights, as my own life waxed and waned over the decades before I was bronzed. Sometimes I imagined traveling to the heavens would bring humanity a clearer view of the world, and in the vastness of space we would truly see how small we are in the grand scheme of things. But those notions seem to lack the gravity of this situation; it's been over a hundred years since I touched another woman, and yet I was no less than thrilled when Myka agreed to spend the night with me. However she seems nervous to me, which makes me feel like I've asked for too much yet again.

"Helena, I don't think I should stay all night." She says sounding almost shy as she appraises my room, and rightly so since this is the first time she has set foot in it to my knowledge.

"But..?"

"Tonight was wonderful and I think anything more," Myka interjects nervously. "And even just something as innocent as lying with you...I just think that's pushing it."

I feel an overwhelming sense of remorse, but I silently agree with Myka and lie down on my bed; fully clothed, and simply wait for her to join me. The illumination from the moon is so bright that even when she turns off the lamp by the bed, I can still see her plainly as if my bedroom were fully lit by artificial means. She seems to relax with every passing second, whereas my heart elevates its pace with every step Myka makes about the room, and when the bed dips slightly I close my eyes and listen to her shoes being discarded one by one. My eyes spring open as I feel Myka's warmth pressing closely along my side, then her arm winds along my waist and I stop breathing for a heartbeat or two.

"Relax Helena, I don't bite." I chuckle at her teasing while she squeezes her arm around my waist tighter. "But I do nibble a little bit." She says lowly while nuzzling against my neck.

"Myka, if I didn't know better I would say you're making a pass at me." I state with a smirk while trying my best to control my body's response to her.

She smiles, "You would be correct and besides a little flirting never hurt anyone, you seem to enjoy doing it."

I hesitantly put my arms around Myka, returning the embrace she is freely giving me. "I admit darling I flirted quite a lot in my previous life and enjoyed every moment of it, but I haven't so much in this life. And even then it was only with you and like all those lifetimes ago I enjoyed it, but this time around even more so."

I feel Myka smile against my neck. "This is nice."

I smile and contemplate about how easy it would be to turn my head and truly kiss her with all the passion in my body; merely the faintest peck of her lips on odd days is not enough anymore. But Myka shifts closer to me and I feel her breasts press into my side; I close my eyes and commit the sensation to memory. Then a light wisp of a touch passes along my eyebrows and I open my eyes to gaze at the feast of all my senses-Myka.

"Helena?" Her voice is soft yet throaty in quality and I suppress a shiver from it. "I want to kiss you."

Being at war with myself over whether or not to give into both of our burgeoning desires is something I never thought I would be strong enough to stop when it happened. "Myka are you certain?" I ask quietly while looking into those enchanted green eyes that have bewitched me many times over.

"Yes." She replies simply but she doesn't move, so I slowly lean in to kiss her but she stops me by turning her head away. I feel suddenly bereft and my arms loosen their hold on Myka. She turns her head back at the minute loss of contact and looks directly into my eyes. "Helena, I lied earlier to a degree, because I still get mad as hell at you sometimes," Myka says after a few thundering heartbeats ringing in my ears. "But I love you. I've always wanted you, and that hasn't changed no matter my state of mind or how many times I tried to will my feelings for you away." And with those last words spoken upon my awaiting lips, she covers my mouth with her own, and the kiss is desperate, tainted with so much longing that I begin to ache all over from the experience of it. My hands wander over her stomach and I dare to graze them over her breasts; feeling them, until slowly they brush over her soft neck and finally my fingers are able to entangle themselves in Myka's long, soft curly hair. She moans into our kiss and pulls me tighter to her, and how I want this to continue but I slowly manage to pull away from her mouth before this kiss goes any further. Reverently I hold her face in my hands and watch those eyes of her's open to me.

Myka is breathing heavily and by God the scent of her perfume; jasmine accented with undertones that surely are uniquely her's, I feel so faint from it all and I have yet to truly taste her mouth. "You know I will happily wait for you," I state with certainty while holding Myka's soft cheeks in both my hands. "As you have waited for me."

She pulls away from me and my fingertips gently trail down her face. "You're right, I did wait for you Helena." Myka pauses and nervously looks down at the small space between our bodies. "That is for a while but then I met someone."

A topic we have yet to discuss and frankly I haven't wanted to, even though I have no right to feel slighted. "Who was he or she?" I ask trying to keep my voice even and light.

I feel Myka laugh lightly against me. "His name was Mike and I met him during a rather interesting artifact hunt that left me very pregnant for longer than I cared to be."

I'm sure shock is written all over my face but all the fault; if one were to assign such, can be laid at my feet because orders or not I just left and even after I could've spoken to Myka I foolishly chose not to.

I laugh nervously and Myka reaches for my hands and pulls them into hers. "So you were pregnant and also had a companion for a spell. I take it the pregnancy was artifact related since I haven't seen a miniature Bering running around?"

She laughs and the last vestige of unease unwinds within me. "That would be correct, and by the way me being pregnant was completely Pete's fault." Myka jokes playfully, and I look into those green eyes shining with mirth. But then she shifts on the bed and drops her eyes to stare at our clasped hands. "As for Mike it was just a few times and then I ended it."

A small part of me cringes when I think of another touching her, that they have been granted access to such affections. But I too sought comfort in another's arms, but it wasn't all that fulfilling and I found it to be rather remedial, routine and unsatisfying.

"Helena, where did you go on me just then?"

I smile and caress her knuckles with my thumb. "Honestly, I was thinking of how we both chose the wrong people for all the wrong reasons."

Myka gives me a small smile and leans in closer to me, and with our faces so close together I feel the strength to pull away becoming increasing difficult, for the both of us equally.

"I never loved Nate and he never was able to make me feel anything." I say as my eyes dart from Myka's eyes to her mouth. "You on the other hand make me feel everything and you've yet to touch me."

Myka's eyes close and her breathing is becoming elevated, irregular and it's utterly hypnotic to me. "I've always loved your accent, the way you speak." She says sounding breathless from her confession, "It makes me so hot...for you." I shudder in return as her warm breath passes along my neck; her words also affecting me in all the proper ways. But all too quickly it stops and Myka moves off the bed, and I sit up and rise off the bed as well.

"Why did you stop?" I ask frantically while moving closer to Myka's retreating form. "Please don't leave me tonight, the offer still stands for you to just sleep beside me."

Myka turns and even in the diminished light I can see those incredible green eyes, and I can see that she's fighting her desire for me. "I don't think I can just sleep with you anymore, Helena."

With that lustful declaration Myka closes the small distance between us and kisses me. So much longing, desperation, I didn't know those things could have a taste. Her full lips fit against mine perfectly and not breaking such a luscious and long delayed contact, I walk backwards slowly until I feel the backs of my legs make contact with the foot of my bed. Our lips do part and I struggle for breath as it seems Myka has stolen it away, but I would happily give my last breath for her to touch me more. I watch as she licks her lips; catching traces of me left behind, and then with a firm push I'm now sitting on my bed. The action surprises me but I don't have time to process it, because Myka promptly straddles my thighs and settles herself down in my lap.

She smiles as her arms wind around my neck, and then I feel her hands subtly move in my hair. "You are the most exquisite woman I have ever seen, from the very first moment I saw you," My breath stills in my lungs as Myka pushes her hips down into my lap, just one small thrust. "And I've rarely noticed or wanted another woman in a sexual way." She adds with an entirely lustful and wanting tone in her voice. "But you...I've always wanted you, all of you, but I don't want you to hold anything back from me or push me away again." I close my eyes and try to remember how to speak, to answer her, but my vocabulary seems to have been rendered silently obsolete. Then Myka's lips once more take possession of mine gradually; at first it's no more than a faint graze of her lips touching my bottom one, but then I feel her tongue run the length and I open my mouth to her with a moan I lean back on the bed and take her with me.

Her weight settles on top of me and the contrast is vastly different from any other that I have embraced intimately. All to quickly though a rush of disappointment fills my chest as Myka moves off me again, and my body instantly feels a longing for the missing heat it craves from her. From the middle of the bed I rise up slightly to look at Myka; she's standing at the foot of the bed, looking completely predatory and then as rapid as a cobra's strike she suddenly reaches for my thighs and pulls me to the end of the bed quickly and rather forcefully. I've always known about Myka's hidden physical strength, my first glimpse was when I saw her take down that man at the Boiling Point factory all those years ago. I lie there looking up at her as my body responds in quite a visceral way as she moves even closer to me, and then I unabashedly look into those eyes of her's.

"Oh my Lord." But any more words I might have spoken are stolen away again when Myka straddles my hips and pulls me up to her. It's a brief pause, a respite, her eyes seeking mine and then the world goes dark as my eyes close at the sensation of Myka's lips upon mine. Hungry, seeking and insatiable are the only words to describe the way I'm being kissed. And because of that I'm only vaguely aware of my vest being unbuttoned; thankfully it only has two, then through heated kisses its pushed off my shoulders in a manner indicating it was committing a great offense by remaining on my body. Small protests are made against my lips when Myka tears my shirt open, and the sound of buttons cascading onto the floor and God knows where, makes me so very ready and painfully aroused. I haven't felt this before, not even a century ago; there is nothing I can liken it to.

But Myka stops again, her mouth hovering over mine, our labored breath mingling and her body still pressed intimately into me. "This is the only time I'll stop, so tell me now if this is not what you want tonight."

I exhale shakily and open my eyes and look into potent, implicit green irises. "This is rather surprising." I manage to reply, while my body shudders as Myka's hands brush over my bra covered breasts. "But I still want you even this way and if this is how you need our first time to be, I will still be here when it's done."

I'm momentarily transfixed as I watch Myka close her eyes briefly and wet her lips. "It is." She replies lowly; her voice belying in no uncertain terms her intent. "And I know you want it this way too...the violence between us...the hurt...it's everywhere, even in our hearts."

I reach up and pull her mouth to mine, only this time it's my tongue that is tasting the warmth of Myka's mouth, and it's enough to dry mine as other parts of me dampen more with a need I haven't felt before. I can't help but surmise in the gravity of this movement I was meant to be cursed by fate; if only so I could experience this, because had those hardships and despair not crossed my path I would've never known this and more worrisome I almost cast this aside for something less. Though there will be no gentleness in our first encounter, it will not be lessened by it, for I feel so much longing and intensity from the both of us that it's clear to me now it could be no other way. So I frantically start undoing the buttons on Myka's lovely pink shirt as fast as can be managed and underthings, I feel her doing the same in return to my bra. The elation of feeling her bare skin under my fingertips for the first time is beyond metaphor, and I moan into her mouth because of it.

Myka's hands on my breasts become insistent, but all to quickly her pleasant touch upon them is abandoned and then my neck is being pulled to the side as her mouth moves down over my jawline to taste the new territory laid bare before her wanting mouth. And in the same breath I'm made fully aware of Myka grinding her hips into my lap, which forces a needy declaration of her name to pass through my lips. My hips begin to counter her actions, and I realize that I couldn't keep them still now even if I wanted to. It's been a while and I feel like I'm going to spend with my trousers still on. But then I hear the sound of a zip and I feel one of Myka's hands pushing into my panties. "So ready for me." Myka breathes into our kisses. But before much else can occur I'm undone and a familiar warmth races from my center to spread all over; I say her name upon my completion.

We lean into one another to find our breath again, and for a few moments I enjoy the feeling of our heaving chests pressed together. "I'm sorry...I didn't mean to...spend so quickly."

Myka laughs. "I'm not and besides we're just getting started."

I feel my second wind returning at the thought of taking the brunt of her incredible passion again and showing her my own unbidden desires. Myka is also spent and leaning against me so closely; breathing heavily, so I take the opportunity and quickly pull down the zipper on her trousers and slip my hand in. She gasps my name so deliciously as my fingers find her warm wetness that touching me has brought about, which makes me moan at its discovery. I turn my head and kiss along her neck as my fingers begin to explore her treasure, she softly moans and her body begins to move as if it has a mind of its own.

"Helena...I want you...I need you." Myka sobs and at that I cover her mouth with mine while sliding two fingers into her naked and drenched center. Her body jerks against my intrusion in an action that screams needful, but I pause to let her adjust and so I can simply feel her. I moan against her lips as she begins to move and I hold Myka in place with my other hand as she rides my fingers; her center pulling them in deeper with each movement. She throws her head back and then those magnificent breasts of hers are before me; an offering, so I take one hardened nipple into my mouth to pay it tribute. She declares my name loudly and pushes her chest forward into my attentions; I will never relent or leave her unsatisfied. I feel her depths begin to tremble and squeeze my fingers, so I turn my hand slightly and press upwards as my palm covers and caresses her pearl. I can feel her heartbeat in my hand.

"Oh..." Myka leans forward and grasps my head. "Oh God...Helena...just stay...inside."

I cannot help but smile as move my mouth off her nipple, as my tongue grazes across her chest to the other, which requires my attention also. I run my tongue along her nipple in a teasing fashion, before I cover and pull it into my mouth. She says my name again as her center clamps down on my fingers in an attempt to hold me inside her depths. The action also forces me to spend once more, brought on by this heightened moment locked in a fervent embrace with my one. Her hands lose some of their hold on my head, but they don't slip away. Myka's body shudders against mine one last time, but still I linger for more than a few heartbeats before withdrawing from her. Slowly I remove my hand out of her trousers and then I bring my fingers up to my mouth as she watches, and I sample the delicacy of Myka's taste that I wrought from her. As soon as it hits my palette I know in no uncertain terms I will need that flavor again and again, for as long as time allows it.

* * *

Even though this began rather heatedly, the patience and care that followed was equally as overwhelming. Finally being consumed by Myka's passion; something I had begun to fear I had diminished by my cavalier actions, but instead I found that it surpasses and bears no resemblance to even the most elaborate fantasy, by any fiction writer standards. In point of fact no one has ever touched me like she has, not in this life or my previous one more than a hundred years ago, and that touch is beyond the flesh, it touches something deeper than that. All those casual encounters so very long ago are pale contrasts, and I cannot ever compare them to her because she has no equivalent; all of them are changeable in my eyes.

The calculated movements of her smooth lips flutter and graze over my trembling stomach; each kiss descending lower on my body, which in turn makes my breath catch in premonition for the next. I dare to look down to see those beautiful brown curls charmingly draped over my body, and then I feel soft, insistent fingers on the waistband of my underthings. I close my eyes and breathe out Myka's name as she lowers them gradually and begins kissing each new expanse of the flesh on my hips. Strong and agile hands move over my thighs and lower until I am divested of the last remains of fabric that covered my body. Then a sound unlike anything thing I've ever made emerges from me when her warm, wet lips begin to roam; the feeling is incredible, and my muscles tense and release in anticipation. My heart is already beating furiously, but when I feel her mouth on me it pauses and then finds a new rhythm, which closely resembles Myka's movements.

My legs are shaking from the effect of Myka's tongue moving around my wet and aching center and then without the slightest hesitation I feel her push her tongue inside of me. My back arches and a loud, almost embarrassing moan spills out of me. My hands move up to my breasts and I caress and fondle them as she loves me thoroughly with her mouth. Then I feel her tongue move out of me and my body seems to reach for it, to welcome it back to my warm hearth. Myka moans against me as her tongue strokes up between me, so deliciously slow, as I stop my unyielding caresses upon my breasts to grip the bedcovers beneath. My paltry cloth anchor does very little to hold me to my body as Myka sensually tastes and explores my pearl, with her heated tongue and lips. I feel my body racing to the brink, but just as quickly as I feel I'm about to spend her mouth moves off of me. I feel like protesting, however before I can utter a complaint I open my eyes to see Myka looking down at me.

Her hand is resting low on my stomach, and right then I know what she is silently asking me. So I let go of one side of the bedcovers and grasp her hand on my stomach; moving it lower, until her hand is covering my need.

I swallow and wet my lips in trepidation. "Myka...it's been a spell since someone's been inside me." Her fingers lightly run through my endless arousal and I gasp at the sensation.

"I won't hurt you Helena." She replies softly as her fingers linger. "I could never do that." She leans down to kiss me and I taste my want on her lips and tongue, which makes me moan into her mouth.

Her lips move against mine in our very own soft dance, but with one last tug on my bottom lip she begins to trail kisses along my jawline. I close my eyes while inhaling sharply, my hands finding a home in those long, soft, curls on her head and with a gentle push I urge her lower. Soft full lips run along the hollow in my throat, and move wetly along my collarbone. Her name slips from my mouth in a desperate moan, and with eyes wide open I feel Myka pull away. Every part of me is completely yearning and rapacious for her touch, she can see it and then I feel her slide a finger inside my ache; I clutch at her arms from the intrusion, but more from the sheer voracity of my body's response. She waits as my body accepts her; my back arches slightly, and then I watch as Myka uses her free hand to support her weight as she begins a slow rhythm inside me. I know that despite my abundant wetness I'm also taut with need, because I can feel her effort in each shallow movement. I close my eyes and attempt to relax my body even more for her, and gradually it does begin to receive more of her. I close my eyes as I feel her add another finger, and I begin meeting her increasing thrusts with matched ones of my own. I try to pull Myka down closer to me and sensing my desire I feel her slowly allow more of her weight upon me.

"Helena...please open your eyes." Her throaty voice so very close to my neck and it makes me release a needy moan, but still I do as I was so humbly requested.

Those incredible green eyes are so much darker than when last I looked, and my breath catches in my throat as Myka all but ceases her passionate caresses inside me. Her breasts lie against mine and then I feel her other hand brush along my side; moving until I feel her grasp my thigh and pull it up higher, which makes me that much more open to her. Myka leans down to kiss me; her tongue tastes my mouth with purpose, as she begins to create the most intense deep thrusts inside me at a more rigorous pace. The space in our bedroom is filled with uneven breaths, titillating moans and equally wanton sounds of dewy flesh meeting in the most tangible rhythm that new lovers shouldn't possess. With a groan I breathe my wanting breaths in between heated, eager kisses and as of now I fear in the best possible way, that I shall never quench my thirst for Myka.

* * *

It's as if I've awoken from a pleasant hallucination, but I desperately do not wish it to be but a wraith that visited me in my repose. Graciously, though the welcoming warmth resting beside me confirms my blessed reality, and I gently turn over to see Myka sleeping on her stomach. Looking at her lovely face relaxed in sleep, her now long curls haphazardly askew on her pillow and shoulders, I feel my heart pick up its cadence at the sight. The only element missing from this oasis is those eyes of hers that would shame jade or an emerald. I've never been this in love and to think I almost cast this aside; so much time I've wasted. My vision blurs slightly just as Myka begins to stir from her slumber, and I wait with bated breath for the sound of her voice.

"Helena?" I watch as she raises her head off the pillow and turns onto her side, the sheets shifts and the tops of her breasts reveal themselves to my eyes.

"Good morning darling." I answer while discretely wiping my eyes under the guise of sleep to not alert her of my impending tears of unadulterated happiness, which she might mistake for something else.

Myka smiles and closes the miniscule distance between us and kisses me, but it's all too brief though; she moves away and I can't help but frown a bit.

"Morning breath, surely they had that in Victorian times too?" Myka teases having caught my expression but assuming its cause wrongly.

I laugh and pull her back to me. "Yes such a thing occurred and I hadn't a care for it then, and I most certainly do not now with you."

Myka chuckles and I pause to look into those green depths before I kiss her good morning properly. My lips want to follow its match when she pulls away and sensing my want for contact Myka leans down to press a kiss to my bare shoulder; just above my heart, before resting her head there as she rests her arm across my stomach. It's a remarkable experience having her so close to me, to be able to feel her skin sharing our warmth beneath the covers. To know how her full lips fit just so against mine, to know her hands upon my body, to be made to feel whole for the first time in over a century. I close my eyes and bask in the glory of that knowledge, as Myka occasionally shifts beside me to further eliminate any remaining space. The sweetest silence lingers between us, except for the sound of our breathing. And as I close my eyes I can't help but reflect on our journey, the adventures, misfortunes, heartache and of course betrayal that lead us to this moment; it all replays itself in my mind. It was an instant appreciation that quickly morphed into an undeniable attraction, and it was always more than just a pursuit of the flesh, but now that I have that as well the picture is complete.

I smile while musing on how I awoke earlier this morning over in my thoughts; it still feels as if it were a fantasy. But I know it to be all too real especially considering how alive I feel; my body is absolutely humming like a finely tuned combustion engine.

Then feeling a slight poke to my side, I turn to chuckle at my perpetrator and she smiles at me knowingly. "Excuse me Ms. Wells, but could I trouble you to turn the omelets?"

"Yes, sorry darling." I concede with a chuckle as I flip the egg over to blanket in the green peppers and onions.

I spare a glance from my assigned task to glimpse Myka flitting about the kitchen while tending to the bacon and toast; she seems so happy, which in turn reinforces the smile that has been on my face all morning. Refocusing my attention back to my duty, I place the fully cooked omelet on the awaiting plate and focus on the the other. The consistency of said egg concoction is almost there but then I feel her presence behind me, and just as I'm about to fold over the omelet Myka's head comes to rest against my shoulder. The action makes me smile wider and with my free hand I reach up to touch her hair. A small satisfied noise escapes her at my touch, and it's as if what might have remained of the distance between us was just abolished. However, I feel like I owe her more; answers to any questions she has yet to ask, and then the perfect outlet for such springs to mind.

"Myka I would like for you to read my journal." I state while running my fingers through her soft curly hair once; my hand lingers then trails away. It would appear a simple gesture to another, but to me it means everything and I hope it will to her. Myka raises her head off my shoulder and I quickly place the fully cooked omelet on the other plate alongside the bacon and toast she finished while I was lost to my thoughts, and then I turn around to look into her eyes. "My therapist, Oliver, thought it would be beneficial and it was." I continue as Myka reaches out to grasp both of my hands. "I held nothing back, except the smallest of details that I couldn't bring myself to write and they are one's you already know."

Myka squeezes my hands as gesture of warmth and acceptance, but I have become enraptured by those eyes of her's which show me everything. "I would love to Helena." She replies as she bites her lower lip briefly. "And since we're both being honest and open I was considering letting you read some of the things I wrote, but I warn you it's not much though and I did abandon it after my treatments started." I feel my eyes warm with tears at the thought of losing her to cancer, but Myka subtly shakes her head and smiles at me. "But if you're good Wells I'll let you read my journal anyway."

I laugh and in turn it makes Myka laugh, which I feel since she is standing so closely to me. "I can be good." I state aloud with a smile in the quiet of our kitchen, not just for Myka but for myself too.

(~END~)

* * *

**Soundtrack:**** "976-Evil" by Deftones, "Waiting" by Smashing Pumpkins, "Do I Wanna Know?" by Arctic Monkeys, "Undisclosed Desires" by Muse & "Fight Fire With Fire" by Scissor Sisters **

**Final Words:**** I admit I've written smut before (not for a while though) many times with absolutely no apologies, but I've never smutted it up just for the sake of doing it. I hope you enjoyed my tale because I loved writing this, even with so much heartache but I still added humor or lightheartedness when I could-`cause that's just how I do. A few more bits of info to pass on to you now: All my stories have a theme. I don't do outlines I write everything as it comes to me. I don't do 'filler' chapters because their boring, my preference is to cut the fat and just leave the 'lean meat' to chow down on. And finally I know I'm not much of a writer, but thanks and praise for the few who gave this a chance.**


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